01 The Morning After
by JonGraeme
Summary: You wake up one morning hearing voices, do you get help or suffer in silence? The voices get so loud you can't hear yourself think, how do you hide it? You learn the voices belong to people being tortured, how do you find the courage to try and help?
1. Chapter 1

* * *

**1: Surviving Monday**

* * *

The voices were beginning to piss him off.

At first they'd been little more than a minor irritation, but the problem had persisted for more than three weeks now and in that time the voices had given no indication that they might go away. Indeed if anything things were getting worse.

It had all started out inoffensively enough, it had been a Saturday night, and Jake had been out at a party with some friends. Student party, on the local university campus, Jake had made an effort to cultivate links with the university, it got him invites to some pretty decent parties despite the fact he was a good year or two younger than most of the students there. This one had turned out to be a particularly loud and intense party and he had probably had significantly more to drink than was sensible with his parents waiting up for him to get home. Not, admittedly, as much to drink as the poor kid who had crashed into him and wound up sprawled on the floor drenched in beer. That had been pretty funny. Jake had helped him up, the guy could only have been fifteen, and didn't look like he had ever been out drinking before. The kid had been terrified of getting beaten up more than anything and was desperately trying to apologize and thank Jake at the same time, and failing at both because he was so pissed he could barely string two coherent thoughts together. Jake was sympathetic, it was only a year or so since that had been him. Anyway, that incident aside they had managed to stay mostly out of trouble and it had been a great fun evening. They had left the party at around midnight, shouting and singing; they were being picked up by Mike's older brother, he would accept the rowdiness, he knew they were out to get pissed. Parents were different, alcohol hadn't been invented when they were young. Anyway, Mike's brother's car was not particularly well tuned; D-I-Y job and Mike's brother was not a particularly gifted mechanic. So the car was noisy and they had to shout above that noise to be heard, not that their conversation would have been significantly impaired had they been unable to hear each other, but that was beside the point. When Jake got out of the car and stumbled up the path to his front door, trying to dredge up all his well diluted sobriety long enough to con his parents into thinking he hadn't had all that much to drink, and found that he could still hear conversations going on in the back of his head, well, he hadn't been particularly surprised. Wrote it off as just the noise of the party still ringing in his ears. And it had been a fucking good party, though he felt somewhat relieved that he was able to refrain from relating that observation to his parents literally. Having passed the final test of being rational in front of his parents, if only on the technicality that they were way too tired to notice, he had climbed the stairs and collapsed into bed.

In his half sentient state he had tried to ignore the quiet but persistent murmuring in the back of his mind. It wasn't particularly what he wanted at that moment. He always enjoyed crashing into bed in silence after a loud party, the silence always helped him glide more gently back down to reality from the high of the party. Only this time the distraction was enough that the moment was spoiled to the point where he even managed to brush his teeth and undress for bed before he went to sleep. Okay, not that big a deal. But then a couple of days later, after the hangover had receded into a pleasant memory, he had noticed that the murmuring voices were still trapped bouncing around somewhere inside his head, and that somehow didn't seem quite normal. And he wasn't much sure what he could do about it. It was pretty damn difficult, it wasn't as if he could tell anyone. How the hell could he, without them thinking he was on drugs or mad? Admitting to the problem wasn't worth the hassle.

But he was a laid back kind of guy, his entire philosophy in life involved avoiding confrontation, so at first he had ignored them in the hope that they would go away. The thing was his parents were beginning to realize something was up, seemed to think he was going deaf or something. It wasn't his fault, it was just that sometimes the voices got so loud they pretty much drowned out anything anyone else was saying.

So now the voices were beginning to piss him off.

It wasn't as if they said anything interesting. They certainly weren't talking to him, that was why he was pretty sure that he wasn't loosing his grip on reality. At the same time though, hearing voices didn't exactly strike him as being particularly normal. It was as if he was listening in on conversations in the next room. Sometimes loud but always very indistinct. It wasn't very often he could make out what they were saying.

Right now he was trying to listen to some music and they were getting in the way. How could he tell disembodied voices to bugger off?

He turned the music up.

A loud banging on the bedroom door less than two minutes later forced him to turn it down again. He couldn't help if he needed it that loud to hear it above his own personal background noise. Not that his parents would buy that excuse even if he could tell them, they didn't like his music at the best of times.

He lay down on his bed and screamed 'Shut the fuck up' in his mind at the top of his voice.

And there was silence.

It took him several moments to realize that he could no longer hear them. He smiled, content but puzzled. And cynical; how long would it last? Occasionally they would shut up of their own accord for hours on end, only to return louder than ever. But right now he would be a fool not to make use of the respite.

He pushed the button to start the album again from the first track. Lying back on the bed he let his eyes drift around the room, for once actually being able to enjoy the music undistracted.

The room wasn't big, but it was big enough. He didn't like the color scheme, mainly pastel greens, he'd wanted red and black. His parents had refused to let him have black wallpaper and a bright red duvet for the bed. He couldn't see why, after all it was his room, he was the one who had to see it day in, day out. By imposition the walls were a kind of mint green shade of white, the bedspread was an almost identical hue but more saturated. The carpet was much darker, with a kind of speckled effect, by his desk there was a patch which was a slightly wrong shade of green and had no pattern. That had happened the first week after the carpet had been put in. His aunt had given him a pair of putrid creamy brown trousers for his birthday, he could never have worn that color, it looked like poodle crap. The trousers themselves were okay, shape and feel-wise, so one Saturday morning when his parents were out he had grabbed a bottle of bleach from the kitchen and had a go at seeing if he could do anything with them. He had a large bowl, and let his trousers steep in it for a couple of hours. It was a complete fiasco, the trousers came out a kind of puke shade of dark yellow with brown lumps. He also managed to spill half the bowl of bleach on the carpet, for some reason the bleach had far more effect on the carpet, leaving it somewhat less than dark green. Not expecting his parents back until late in the afternoon he had hurried down to the shops to try and get some kind of dye to try and disguise the damage with. Of course the shop didn't have the exact shade, so he had chosen one a little darker and made do. He had spent the afternoon with a fan heater trying to dry out the carpet, clearing out the bleach, and finishing off the trousers. The carpet didn't particularly work, his mother had noticed immediately, but then she would. He claimed he had spilled ink on it, she was furious, especially it being a brand new carpet, but not half as furious as she would have been if she had known he had been bleaching things in his bedroom. The trousers had come out remarkably well, at the same time as getting the dye for the carpet he had bought a bottle of bright red. The trousers looked fantastic, so despite nearly pissing himself when he had spilled the bleach, that hadn't been too disastrous a day.

On the desk he had his computer, and his TV, along with a load of magazines and pieces of paper and receipts and bus tickets and dirty socks. Most of the computer games were on the floor, kept strategically apart from the tangle of cables running to the computer and also to the old iPod dock hidden under the desk. The desk however was a step in the right direction, black metal legs and black imitation wood top.

Next to the desk was a set of shelves, black as well. Most of the books were on the desk or on the floor or on the bed, the shelves tended to be filled with junk, pairs of scissors, lumps of blu-tac, keys, dirty cups and saucers, and more dirty socks.

Covering the walls he had posters, more posters, and a few more posters. They took the edge off the crap wallpaper.

There was a wardrobe in one corner, that was a kind of worn brown color. It needed a change, his parents wanted it painted white, but that wouldn't go with the rest of the wood effect in the room. It wanted to be black. He rarely ever opened it unless he had to, the bottom part was so packed full that it tended to fall out everywhere if he tried.

In the middle of the floor lay his school bag. Unopened since he had dumped it there after school on Friday.

Okay, so the room was a mess. Nothing unusual about that, actually this mess wasn't remotely as bad as it normally was. He could see the unmistakable signs of growing old when he could no longer tolerate a messy room. Old at sixteen, what would that make him when he reached twenty.

Psychotic, if he couldn't think of some permanent way of ridding himself of his problem.

He wondered if getting laid might do it. He had thought at first that it might be some side effect of puberty, one of the kind people didn't talk about, no chapter on it in the sadistically boring text books they used at school for human biology. It would have been, he felt, a superb excuse for dumping his virginity at the first opportunity. After all he was old enough, and most of his friends had. No, most of his friends hadn't - most of his friends only claimed they had. And it was so obvious when they were lying. None of his friends were any good at lying, he sometimes wondered how they got anywhere in life. And it wasn't the solution to his problems, he knew that, to pretend otherwise he would just be lying to himself, and that would just be sad.

He had to face it, there was no easy answer. That made one hell of an unappetizing prospect for his future. His future; He figured there was something wrong when a sixteen year old was thinking more about his long term future than the next party he would get to, or how he was going to talk his way out of not doing his homework again the next morning. Ironic, but the voices had never bothered him at school, the one time he really wouldn't care all that much. Not that he hated school, just, it was frustrating. Not difficult, he pretty much knew he was a genius, though he tried desperately not to show it. He took solace in the stories of tormented geniuses down the centuries, lots of them claimed to hear voices. Lots of people thought them mad. And yet they were respected as some of the most creative people ever to have lived. On the flip side, many ended up psychotic and died young and he would be damned if he was going to end up like that. Somehow he had to fight. It was just right now he didn't know how to. Or, couldn't be arsed, which was more likely.

He glanced at the bedside clock to see it change from 10:43 PM to 10:44 PM. That would make it midnight exactly. He really had to get round to getting the stupid thing set right. Anyway, another Monday morning, and his luck with Monday mornings had never been good to begin with. Double chemistry. Maybe he could accidentally blow something up. Anything to break the monotony. Right now though he ought to think of going to bed. He had left the computer on. He silently cursed in contemplation of the effort required to get up and take the two or three steps over to the power switch. Maybe it could wait a little longer while he gathered strength. He felt drained, it had been a long day. Why had some sadist come up with the idea of having to turn things off when you finish with them? Why couldn't you remain on a permanent high? Why did you have to come down again? Why didn't good things last? Why did fucking awful things like the voices seem to last forever?

He sat back down on his bed and started to undress. He contemplated folding the clothes and then dumped them in a 'what the hell' pile in the middle of the floor. He snuggled down under the duvet and turned off the bedside light.

Warm silence and peace.

* * *

'Jake.'

He awoke, something abruptly tearing from what had been a comparatively peaceful sleep, half asleep and yet alert in that way that only happens when you get woken up in the middle of the night. The clock was claiming it was 3:21 AM.

'Jake!'

Shit, someone calling him from downstairs. They would bloody well wait until he was asleep. What the hell was this all about? Ignore them, he would pretend he was still asleep. The house could burn down for all he cared, he wasn't getting out of bed. His eyes blinked open, something was wrong, his family never called him Jake.

He tried to listen. The whir of the computer fans drowned out the silence, yeah, yeah, he'd forgotten to turn that off, his mother would be pissed at his lack of concern for the environment, but not at four something in the morning. It just meant it was hard to listen properly, a problem easily solved by turning the stupid thing off, but that meant effort on his part. He stared malevolently at his computer, wishing it would turn itself off. It did. The lack of a logical reason should have irritated him as well, but he was too asleep still to care.

'Jake.' The voice came again. Spoken this time, not shouted. A soft voice. It couldn't have come from outside the room. Definitely the same voice as before.

It was one of his voices. One of them calling his name. And for the first time in his relationship with them a new emotional reaction toward them developed. One of fear.

* * *

He awoke with a headache. A bad headache. The voices were chattering nonsensically, silence and relaxation seemed unattainable. The headaches had started shortly after he started hearing the voices. Or maybe before, maybe he just hadn't noticed earlier, maybe he was getting the headaches but they hadn't been so bad back then. Girls could have headaches, no one would ever believe he had. He tried to shut out the noise. He was feeling tired, unfulfilled, lack of sleep was half the problem.

How many hours had he lain awake the night before, too frightened to close his eyes? If it had been an irrational fear he could have told himself not to be so fucking stupid.

The voice had called his name.

How many hours had he lain there trying to tell himself that he'd only thought the voice had said his name? He could have misheard, muffled indistinct mutterings that sounded like his name in his semi-conscious state of awareness. Except that was just denial. In the strange light of the subdued early morning sun permeating the gaudy curtains the fear had faded into a nagging doubt. But how long would it be before he could have a decent nights sleep again if this was what he had to look forward to?

Sod it for now, he thought.

He dressed quickly and shoved his clothes from the previous day under the duvet, it was easier than going to the bother of hanging them up, his mother would complain if she saw them on the floor. He grabbed his watch from the desk, he had slept in. Missed breakfast, damn. Late for school he didn't mind, no breakfast he did. Sadly his parents didn't share his enlightened sense of priorities. He hurriedly pulled open the curtains, trying to look out into the back back to try and guess the weather. It looked like there had been a ground frost overnight, which was bloody irritating weather for the last week in May. Bloody silly when only a week earlier they'd been enjoying an unseasonal heat wave. Bloody global cooling, that was the problem. Jake grabbed a thick coat and gloves, and picked up his school bag. One advantage of not bothering to do his homework was that it was still packed from Friday.

He was in no mood for school right now. Not that there was much of an option, unless the end of the world had arrived early. And with that wishful thought he prepared to descend the stairs into the waiting wrath of his mother throwing a fit over a couple of wasted pieces of toast...

* * *

"Another one. Lindsay Jameson was her name. No apparent connection again. Well, tell me this, Jacob Laris, if there's no apparent connection between them all, how are they so sure there's even a link? They know a lot more than they're telling!"

Jake glanced down at the newspaper headlines. Another kid missing, that made something like seven disappeared in the last five months. Bloody great, just what he didn't need, another excuse for his mother to feel like all her worry and paranoia was justified.

"And as for the police and their investigation, I mean, really, what exactly have the achieved? Right, of course, they've worked out the connection between the victims. What connection? They're all children! Honestly, when he said that on the news last week I was in despair. Best minds in the country and all they could come up with was that the victims were all under eighteen. What was it he called them? Said they were 'tomorrow people'. Sounds more like the title of a psychedelic 1970s TV show or something. Called them that because all those kids that vanished would have been 'people' tomorrow I suppose, which has to be the most arrogant twaddle I ever heard because it means they don't consider children people already, but what do you expect from a police force that is so incompetent that they don't seem to have gotten one step closer to catching anyone, and the only fact they can reveal that the investigation has uncovered is that there is a link between the ages of the victims. Well, frankly I'm disgusted."

Jake hesitated to make sure his mother really had finally finished that single sentence. Unfortunately he hesitated a moment too long.

"No meaningful connection. Abducting boys and girls, so it isn't a sex thing, unless he happens to be some kind of twisted equal opportunities pervert. But if they just gave some hint about what the real connection was I would have an idea whether I need to get all worried about my little boy being a target or not. My little boy who, by the way, needs to keep his music more quiet that late at night because I am sure he wouldn't want me wondering what he was getting up to alone in his bedroom that he needed to drown out the noise of. Although knowing you it was probably homework."

She disappeared back into the kitchen still talking. There was no point in trying to cut in while she wasn't there, although he felt he desperately needed to cut in as this one sided conversation was really not going anywhere he was exactly overjoyed about.

"Sometimes Jacob I wonder if you'll ever get yourself sorted out. What time were you doing homework to last night? Work, work, work, it can't be good for you. Now you don't have time to eat a decent breakfast. They'll be thinking we neglect you. There's a bus at a quarter to, you'll have to run when you get off at the other end, but you shouldn't be late."

So she thought he was up doing homework last night, he wouldn't spoil the illusion. His mother was in one of her hurries for him, helping him get ready and virtually pushing him out of the door. He hadn't been late for school since year three, an impressive record that his mother didn't want spoiled. She was good at heart, but she could be a little overpowering at times. His father had already left for work, normally he was there to dilute her enthusiasm. Now Jake was getting the lot, which he could normally handle, but not when his head was hurting so much.

"... me." His mother, it might have been. He looked up and tried to ignore the throbbing for a moment.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, for the third time, are you ignoring me? This is going too far Jacob, I'm making an appointment today to have your hearing tested. You've kept on saying you're alright, again and again, but this is getting beyond a joke."

"There's no problem, honestly, I've just got a bit of a headache."

"Headache, that's even worse. It could be meningitis or a brain tumor. That could be why you're having trouble hearing. That's it then, I'm phoning up for an appointment today, whether you like it or not."

His mother was a hypochondriac. She was never ill herself, but was certain that everyone else was. He could have done without it. Once she got it into her head that he was seriously ill he would have no peace. She was stubborn. He resigned himself to a hearing test. Just hope the voices don't play themselves up, he told himself. He felt desperate to get out of the house. Once at school he could shut himself up in the store room. Maybe that would give him the solitude he needed to break the headache.

"So I was reminding you to watch out for anyone strange at the bus stop. You have your phone, you call. You see anything suspicious, you call. Not having you dying of a brain tumor AND getting kidnapped."

Thankfully the voices were subsiding as they always seemed to do around school time. He had managed to shove some toast down his throat, washed it down with a cup of tea, and that was acting to counter the headache. He would have preferred a decent breakfast, but he would last until lunchtime. It was cold out, but in his hurry for the bus he wouldn't particularly notice. He pulled his gloves on and picked up his school bags, letting his mother open the door for him.

"See you tonight, bye." He called ritually as he headed down the drive to the street. He heard the door close behind him and he sucked in the silence joyously, before his mind turned to concentrate on the school day ahead.

* * *

The journey into school was after five years somewhat mechanical. Five years of walking down the same street virtually every day, five years of catching the same bus from the same bus stop, at the same time. Well, normally at the same time. He was used to going in earlier now, get in for just after eight and use the time that gave him to get his homework done. Today he would get in on the stroke of nine, with a little luck. The only chance he would have to fudge something together for maths would mean sacrificing his lunch time. His own fault for sleeping in.

He had seen that route so many times over the years, watching it change, as he had changed. growing and learning. Though it was always the same route, he saw it differently now to how he had five years ago, and he still found something new about it every time he saw it. Always new, always changing. He liked that, liked seeing the change over time. It gave him hope.

No sign of anyone following him. He smiled wryly to himself, he had no intention of getting worried about newspaper scare stories, he wasn't going to give in to the hysteria. And it wasn't just his mother, the whole news media was stirring this one up. A state of nervous panic over a statistically insignificant danger. People on the whole were a bunch of sheep he figured, and the irrational behavior of otherwise rational people in the face of a few disappearances just reinforced his opinion.

It was a four minute walk to the bus stop; down the street to the main road, then along in the direction of school. The bus ran every ten minutes, well supposedly, it never seemed like that when he was sitting in the bus stop, especially when it was freezing cold. The bus journey took about ten minutes and dropped him off just opposite the school. He was lazy, and the set up was ideal.

He could make it to registration within four minutes of getting off the bus.

Of course today the bus was late. He arrived six minutes late for school, to find his class teacher hadn't bothered turning up for registration. He ticked himself off in the book and ran to catch up with his friends before they reached the first lesson.

* * *

The door clicked shut, he quickly turned the key and felt the relief building inside him. The murmuring noises had started again. It was quiet, but still damn fucking irritating.

Chemistry he had pretty much slept through, Physics had ended early. Now he had his one chance to try and get his maths homework finished before the afternoon's lesson.

He checked there was enough water in the kettle and switched it on. He put a large spoon of coffee in his cup and waited for the water to boil. He was freezing, then remembered the fan heater he had borrowed from the physics lab. It made a grinding noise as it croaked wearily into life. The thermostat was a bit dodgy, and it always smelt like it was burning, but it did its job. It was better than nothing.

He pulled out a chair, sat down, and pulled his sandwich box from his school bag. Comparative luxury, really. he smiled at the thought of the poor sods freezing their balls off in the school common rooms. Some idiot had vandalized the heaters and the school had refused to replace them until the culprit owned up. Yeah, like that would ever happen. Well, maybe it would now the weather had turned so bloody cold again.

It didn't matter, problems in the common rooms no longer affected him. On the second week of term he had been asked to help sort out the junk in a store room underneath the library. He had agreed reluctantly, hoping they would forget about it if he put in one or two token appearances. Very quickly they forgot about it, and he found himself spinning the work out. After all, they had discovered an old TV set down there, still needed a DVD player though, he had to remember that, had a plan there. He had brought a kettle from home, there was a sink in the corner, power sockets, chairs and junk. The junk disappeared quickly and not long after they had changed the locks on the door. Their own, private, hiding hole. Much more comfortable than the common room, they were sensible enough not to take any risks with it, the fact that it was underground provided excellent insulation, and no noise could be transmitted upstairs to the library. More importantly access could be restricted to only those people he trusted, not that he really trusted any of them, but that was beside the point. And they could escape; an old access tunnel linked them with a disused boiler room underneath the gym. They were pretty sure not even the teachers knew about that.

The room was valuable enough for the few of them that knew about it to ensure it remained just a few of them.

Dean and Mike had a biology practical. Kath was on duty; the more trusted inmates were given power over the younger inmates. She would probably be over at 12:30 PM to wind him up. Kath Alessi was... he found her tough to deal with. She wasn't someone it was easy to be superficial with. That was a problem. His mastery of life was built on his ability to put on a face, it was built on telling people what they wanted to hear. Easy, because he always knew what they wanted to hear. Well, other than Ms Hinton, his maths teacher. There was something wrong with her, she secretly had to some kind of other world demonic entity. But Kath, he looked at her and all he could see was that she wanted the truth. That didn't help much, didn't tell him what he needed to say. Honesty was not something he was particularly any good at.

He turned on the TV and turned up the volume. Drowning out the noise he couldn't hear. Just as well the store room was as near as damn it sound proof. The news was just a few minutes away. More bloody paranoia mongering about missing kids that would be, he didn't know why he watched. He poured his coffee and tried to relax.

He almost missed the sound of the key turning in the door, panic, not expecting anyone. They were meant to knock three times first anyway. He dived to turn off the TV, spilling hot coffee down his trousers. He clenched his jaw tightly shut, all he had to do was remain silent; the key wouldn't work unless it was one of his friends.

Dean, out of breath, stumbled into the room. The door was locked quickly behind him.

"What the fuck were you thinking of, I nearly pissed myself."

"Looks more than nearly."

"That is coffee."

"Yeah, I believe you, totally. The Sith Lord is looking for you, something about you cutting school last week."

Jake paused, 'If anyone says shit about me going to see Vader with wet trousers, you are for it. Catch you later."

He grabbed his coat, slipped it on and zipped it fully up. Cursing having to leave just as he was thawing out nicely. The door closed behind him and he regretted leaving his personal sanctuary, in boding apprehension.

* * *

Not that he had anything to worry about. He never really did anything wrong, or at least never got caught. As far as Vader was concerned the worst he had ever done was to hand in Maths homework late.

Doctor Ernest V. Vader was the deputy principal, he combined a total lack of any sense of humor with a raspy voice and a totalitarian streak. It was a standing joke new kids sent to see him often pissed themselves. It was true he could be intimidating, but Jake Templeton Laris treated all teachers as a joke, it was pretty difficult to be intimidated by someone you didn't take seriously. Anyway, even if he had been guilty Jake figured he would be able to talk his way out it. And in a way it would help if Vader did start shouting, more chance of hearing him. The background voices were just getting louder and louder, first time they had bothered him at school. This was getting bloody silly. He knocked lightly on the door.

"Come."

Jake stepped into the room, the glare of the mock interrogation lamp catching him, he squinted at the figure beyond the desk. Dark and misshapen, he observed, like a cloaked incorporeal demon rising from some hideous polluted gutter. Then the cracked, lipless mouth opened as if to utter an hideous incantation. The guy was just too theatrical to take too seriously. Worked on younger kids maybe, but not him. Okay, straight face, he reminded himself.

"Sit down, Laris." Vader tried to pause ominously, 'I take it you are aware of my reason for summoning you?"

Jake glanced across at his adversary, at the reflection in his eyes, then through the reflection. So, Vader only knew about the lunchtime, that made it easier. No use going with denial, there was an air of certainty to his knowledge of the absence. And a sense of disappointment, that was cool, he could play on that.

"Not really, Sir, only that I suppose it might be something to do with me being away last Thursday lunchtime."

"So you weren't here?"

"No Sir."

"Explain."

"Sorry Sir, I went into town on an errand for Mister Fiedler. At the electronics repair shop." Well, it was vaguely true - Fiedler, his chemistry teacher, had sent him to pick up some spare parts, but that was the week before. Not that Fiedler would remember, he would just back him up. In any case the chances were Vader wouldn't bother trying to verify the alibi.

"I see. I expected there would be a rational explanation. It had been reported to me that you had been absent that afternoon, without permission. While your record clearly indicates you are not likely to do such a thing, I must investigate these matters without prejudice, good or bad. In this case I think I need interrupt your lunch time no longer."

And that terminated the conversation. Jake expressed a profound sounding, 'Thank you Sir," and left the room triumphantly.

If only he could talk his way out of Maths homework so easily. Ms Hinton was so much harder to read though. And the interruption to lunch meant there was little chance now of getting it done in time. Tough to concentrate as well with the voices, although they had abated slightly by the end of lunchtime. This was not a development he appreciated much. Seemed like he had no escape from the voices now, and that was liable to make life a lot more complicated.

* * *

"So, Laris, so damn clever you don't need to do your homework?"

Adam Kennywell, Adam Kennywell, Adam Kennywell. Who the hell was Adam Kennywell? This happened every time. Any other teacher and he could find exactly the right weasel words to get out of any trouble. But not when it came to maths lessons, not Ms Hinton. He couldn't keep a train of thought from one moment to the next, weird, disconnected thoughts kept popping into his head. She had some kind of freakish effect on him, this time was no different. He had no clue who Adam Kennywell was, but now he couldn't get the name out of his head, it was overpowering. He had to get some kind of answer out. What did she want him to say, why couldn't he work it out?

"No Miss. Honestly I just forgot."

"Don't be a smart arse." Her Australian accent sounded so sexy when she shouted. She had a quick temper, fury and anger in abundance, but she wasn't very intimidating in her knee length leather mini-skirt and loose, flame red blouse. The usual problem was in keeping a straight face.

"I'm not wasting any more of the lesson on you. We will continue this conversation after school on Wednesday. And you had damn well better have your homework done by then."

"Detention?" he immediately regretted the accusative tone of his voice, but he couldn't believe it. Alright, it wasn't the first time he had forgotten his homework. But he had apologized, she had no justification for landing him with a detention. The fact that he probably deserved it if only for all the times he hadn't got caught was beside the point.

"Yes, Mister Laris. I'm not wasting any more lesson time on you. And the rest of you can shut up, or you can join him."

The rest of the class quickly fell silent, and she started the lesson. She clearly couldn't hear the people Jake could hear chattering loudly in the distance, which was a pity, because he had to figure maybe her bitching at them would have had some effectiveness in making them go away.

* * *

"You got some kind of crush on her?" Kath had made an effort to catch him on the way out of the maths lesson and was intent on taking the piss.

"What?" Jake asked, frustrated having to ask such a stupid question. He wasn't much used to not knowing what the answer expected of him was.

"I love watching you in Maths lessons. Watching you fumbling for words, she just doesn't fall for your puppy dog facade. You can't bullshit her the way you bullshit everyone else."

"You think I bullshit you?"

"Yes. Oh, I'll admit, I never once have caught you doing it, but I wouldn't, would I, you're too damn good at it."

"You wound me, you know." Jake replied with mock indignation.

"Yeah, yeah. So why does she have that effect on you?"

"You looking for advice?"

"Looking for your weakness so I can exploit you."

"I have weaknesses for all sorts of things."

"You certainly have a weakness for maths teachers."

"Fuck off. You think I like looking like a twat in her lessons?"

"You, you might. You're disturbed in ways like that. I don't know. No one else sees it, but you are kind of disturbed."

"Yeah, and I love you too. Look, I wasn't on form, had a headache, that's all. Been getting a few headaches recently. No big deal."

"Headaches then... you sure it isn't your guilty conscience?"

"Ha fucking ha. Alright, so want would you want to do me out of if you could exploit me?"

"I don't know. Tickets. Tickets to see Foo Fighters, front row center."

"Is that all? I'll see what I can do."

"See, there it is. Right now, you're bullshitting me. Only, you fucking will get those tickets won't you?"

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

And that had been the end of the school day. He left straight after maths as he always did on a Monday, technically he wasn't supposed to be leaving school mid-afternoon, but it was easy to get away with that one. He arrived home to encounter a note telling him that his hearing test had been arranged for Thursday. He smiled; it was the perfect half-an-excuse, he could easily wangle it to take the entire day off. That still left him having to suffer through an evening of his mother worrying vocally about brain tumors and meningitis and kidnapping. He enthusiastically took to heart a suggestion to get an early night, and escaped to bed. He found himself lying there awake, looking back on a day he could really have done without. Not that he had any right to object to the detention. It would be something new, he had never had one before. Everyone else had, he was long overdue his first experience.

Long overdue his first experience of a lot of things, not that he minded, there was a certain amount of choice in that predicament. There was no choice in his predicament with regard to the detention, spending time alone with Ms Hinton was not something he would ever voluntarily choose. Which was nuts, she was hot, but she was also just not someone he could deal with, even in his fantasies. Which, he considered, was bordering on being a tragedy, not that anything would happen at the detention, but surely he should be able to dream. But all he could think about was the detention. Yes, there was something plain wrong with the aspect of the experience he was focussed on right now. And it was part of a bigger problem, with the house to himself that afternoon he would usually have taken the opportunity to exorcise his tension and frustration over a morally questionable magazine or two, but he hadn't been in the mood. So much for teenage urges being irrepressible. He'd done his maths homework instead. He wondered if the voices in his mind were somehow displacing his inappropriate thoughts. In which case the voices were worse than bad, they were worse than worse.

They were there now, two, maybe three. Loud but muffled. He listened intently, sometimes they became clearer at night. Listening, tempting fate, trying to hear them call out his name.

Listening, waiting, wondering in apprehension, until he fell reluctantly asleep, exhausted.

* * *

The room was open, open to a howling snowstorm on a desolate featureless landscape. The kettle was icing over, the heater battling in total futility. There were icicles hanging from the stone ceiling. The door hung limply at an awkward angle to its frame. The snow was advancing slowly across the floor from every direction. He could see nothing but blizzard beyond. He knew he had to leave the room. There were no longer any walls to hold the ceiling up, he couldn't understand why it hadn't fallen already. The problem was in deciding which way to go. Out in the direction of the door would take him towards the library, if he could find it walking almost blind. The opposite direction led to the teacher's study, that was not his idea of escape. He could hear voices above the screaming wind. He screwed his eyes trying to look beyond the maelstrom, he could see a figure in the distance. Towards, it was a direction he had never known to exist before. But there was someone there, hard to make out through the driving snow, a figure, a girl wearing a white surgical gown. Wearing that, she had to be freezing to death, she was clearly someone who desperately needed help. Jake had to try and get to her. He stepped out into the biting cold. He could feel his face freezing, his limbs seizing up. She was looking towards him, but gave no indication she could even see him, he fought on desperately, closer and closer, but never seemed to be able to reach whoever it was. Momentarily he glanced back, nothing but white behind him now, he couldn't go back. He turned to press on forward, but the figure had gone. He spun, half in panic, no one, no sound but the wind, no reference points, nothing in any direction at all around him, he felt disoriented.

For a moment the storm seemed to subside, he could see a flash of someone behind him, coming towards him through the swirling snow. Not the same person he had seen earlier, someone else. Someone with a very dorky haircut. Someone holding out his hand, reaching out towards Jake. He seemed barely inches away, yet still too far away to touch. He was screaming above the storm, but could move no closer. The figure was momentarily visible as the wind changed direction, his lips were moving, he was trying to say something.

"Jake," the voice momentarily broke above audible, before the figure faded totally into a featureless white oblivion. He could see nothing again, a total white nothingness everywhere around him. He was alone, he felt so alone. And cold, so cold and so alone. The figure calling his name now merely a distant memory. He was shivering, crying, pleading. There was no one to plead with.

* * *

He awoke sweating.

At least this time he would be down in time for breakfast.

* * *

**2: Sheep Shagging**

* * *

Damon Jackson pulled himself reluctantly to his feet and walked to the front of the class. Trying to work out if he would get away with the sheep sex joke. Trying to work out if he cared whether he would get away with it, and tell it anyway for the hell of it. Trying to forget his hangover, even though that was from Sunday night and it was now Tuesday. Didn't help either that he hadn't slept well the night before. Strange nightmare about being stranded outside in a blizzard, freezing to death.

"This is my science project report on human evolution." He hated talking in front of the class. "Just over three weeks ago I attended a special lecture day given by the Institute for the Advancement of Science on this topic, this last weekend we went back for a concluding presentation, and I want to summarize the content of these visits." Stilted, stupid, felt like a geek. The entire class thought he was a geek, he wasn't doing himself any favors here. But twice in the last three weeks, just for a moment, he hadn't felt like one. For a couple of brief moments he had felt what it must be like to be normal, to hang out with the popular kids. To get smashed out of his head.

"The hypothesis is that human evolution has itself evolved." How could he make this interesting? How the hell had that guy who had given the presentation at the Institute three weeks earlier managed it? But somehow the guy had. Damon tried to think himself back there. Sat in the lecture theater, watching. Watching Dr Roger Elvyn actually make evolutionary biology sound fun...

* * *

"The death of human evolution has been greatly exaggerated. Human evolution is not dead. It has merely evolved." Dr Roger Elvyn had paused at that point, caught the moment with his opening statement, and the chattering in the audience had subsided.

"It's a hypothesis, not a theory. Can anyone tell me in science what is the difference between a hypothesis and a theory?"

Hands went up, Damon's hand in the third row had gone up, and he had momentarily freaked as Dr Elvyn had pointed at him. "A hypothesis is just a concept or idea for consideration. A theory has undergone rigorous peer review and is generally accepted to be an accurate model to explain observed facts." He managed to stutter out.

"Good. Yes, I'll take that." Not perfect, but it must have been good enough for his purpose.

Damon had felt intensely self-conscious. People were looking at him, and he hated that. Looking at him, he mentally noted, as much because he looked a good year or three younger than the bulk of seventeen and eighteen year olds in the audience.

"I can't point you at observed facts that directly indicate that the nature of human evolution has changed. I will present an argument as to why it should be considered a possibility, why perhaps we should perhaps be looking for evidence, and indeed what form that evidence might take. You can go away and think about it, you can go away think about ideas how to test it, but at this point is has not been rigorously reviewed, so it is a long, long way from being a theory."

Damon watched the guy pause to sip from a glass of water on the desk in front of him. Outwardly in control but beneath the surface he could see him trying to relax, trying to remind himself this was only a bunch of high school students here to get a taste of university, it wasn't the grant committee out to screw him again. Wondering if he might even get away with suggesting some of his less orthodox ideas, a thought floated but rejected on the consideration there was half a chance that some irritating prick called Stellman might slip in the back and be listening. And Elvyn was in enough trouble with the faculty as it was, no need to invite professional suicide.

"What do I mean by 'the death of evolution'? Our species, Homo sapiens, wise man, has turned out to be too wise for traditional evolution. Advances in medicine are conquering previously incurable diseases, one hundred years ago seven out of every ten children would have died before they reached your age. Weaker people would die in a cold winter, or die if they were injured and couldn't hunt for food. Today if I have a cold I can go online and have food delivered direct to my door. An important traditional mechanism for evolution, the survival of the fittest, no longer has the same meaning it did when Darwin sailed off on his voyage of discovery.

"Also people are no longer genetically isolated as they were even just fifty years ago, people travel and mix worldwide. The differences between populations are decreasing, not increasing, that works against change, that works against evolution.

"So, is human evolution dead?

"To answer that, we need to start at the beginning. First, I want to tackle two issues. Who we are, and where we came from. In that we cover; what is evolution, what is biological evolution, what is human evolution? Once you understand that, and the models by which this has happened, then I'll tackle the third issue; where we are going?"

Starting to relax, starting to get into the presentation. He paused theatrically.

"Okay, someone tell me, who are we? From a biological point of view?"

Damon had his hand instantly in the air, but was not so bothered to lose out to an older boy across the other side. Lesson one in not looking like a twat, don't raise your hand. He knew that. But he hated not raising his hand if he knew the answer.

"Human beings."

"Yes we are, and the scientific name for humans is?"

Elvyn picked a girl at the front; "Homo sapiens."

"Right, someone was listening. We are the species Homo sapiens. What is a species?"

Hands went up, he ignored them, instead selecting the first next slide in his presentation. "Don't worry, this is a trick question." He read out directly from the screen:

"One day, Plato defined humankind as the two legged animal without feathers. The next day, they say, Diogenes dropped by the Academy with a plucked chicken."  
unknown, /creation/speciationdef.html, 1998

* * *

"If you try to over-simplify a definition, you can easily loose the meaning, and often open yourself to ridicule."

"Try this one:"

"Species are groups of actually or potentially interbreeding natural populations, which are reproductively isolated from other such groups." E. Mayr, 'Systematics and the Origin of Species', Columbia University Press, 1944

* * *

"Yes, your species is your set of potential sexual partners. It's about viable reproduction, for anyone confused; this does not mean Welsh men and sheep are the same species." It got a laugh.

"The definition of species is still widely debated. The one quoted here is the biological species definition. The fundamental problem is that a definition that is of use to, say, geneticists is of little use to palaeobiologists. Categorizing fossilized specimens has to be done by morphology, that is comparing the structure of the fossils, there is no DNA to work from. Similarly with an extinct species, a fossil simply cannot tell you if two specimens were reproductively compatible.

"So why the hell can these guys not get their act together? There is an apocryphal story about, oh, between three and seven blind men encountering an elephant, depending on the version you read. One touches the trunk and concludes the elephant is a rope. The second touches its side and concludes a wall. I'll stop there, fortunately no stories get past seven blind men because I hate to think what would be left for them to grope. The point is each only sees a single aspect of what the elephant is. They are all valid observations, though they may seem to contradict. The whole is something bigger and more complex than can be grasped by the limited perception of any one man.

"That is also true of the concept of a species. And indeed true of many concepts I will present here. As scientists we struggle with seeing tiny fragments of a greater whole, and trying to put them together to get a better picture. We will never have all the pieces, we will never entirely agree on what conclusions we reach based on our individual interpretations of those pieces we do have. The bigger picture in its pure form remains eternally elusive. Unless you want to get into theology, but that's a whole different lecture!"

* * *

Telling dirty jokes about sheep and intellectual jokes about chickens. Damon could really appreciate the different levels of humor. But, it was the sheep joke he cared about. That was what he needed. That was how he could walk out of that classroom not looking like a total nerd. That was the real lesson he had learned from the two weekends going to stay over at the university campus. The real lesson that had started after the lectures...

* * *

"Do we have to have this little creep hanging around?" Chris had asked angrily.

Pete agreed. "He's way too young, we won't get served anywhere if he comes along."

"Come on, kid, does your dick even have hairs on yet?" Chris had addressed the challenge directly at Damon, but wasn't listening for an answer. Like Pete, he was waiting more for a cue from Nick on how far it was okay to push things, and so far Nick had remained silent on the matter.

Damon had quickly surmised the three of them were very much opposed to having anything to do with him that night. They'd actually been pretty good humored and not verbally beat up on him all day, but the evening was their big chance to get out and have some real fun, and they weren't about to have some fifteen year old kid spoil it. He could understand their point of view, but he had his own plans to have fun. Anyway, it was fair to say that he had them by the short and curlies.

"I know about the vodka you stashed on the school bus on the way here, and I know that you bollocksed up and left it there. They'll find it when we load up the bags on the way back, unless you manage a distraction so someone can grab it out of the way first. But you can't distract me and the bus driver at the same time, and that's a problem. So, how about I make it easy for you and promise to keep my mouth shut. Problem solved."

"How about we kick the shit out of you?" Pete wasn't exactly happy at the ultimatum, but Damon wasn't worried, he knew the guy didn't have the balls to carry through on the threat.

"Exactly how the hell did you know about that?" Chris was more worried that their scheme had been uncovered.

Nick broke his silence, "The rest of us might just fake it, but no way will you pass for eighteen. Come on, be realistic here, how old are you?" Nick was intelligent enough to have skipped past any pointless debate on how Damon had worked out about the vodka, and practical enough to recognize a reasonable deal in concept at least, Nick just didn't believe what Damon was proposing was workable.

Damon fought to remain as calm as he could, trying to face them all down. "Sixteen next month. And for your information my dick does have hairs."

"This isn't going to work." Chris was blunt.

Pete shook his head dismissively, "Look at him, look at his hair, his mother still cuts his hair, right. Straight cut and poofed up like a fucking shampoo advert for women. He might as well have a big flashing sign on his head says 'I Am 9'."

Damon swallowed back, he kind of agreed about the hair thing, but there wasn't much he could do about that, he had to finish making his case. "It will work. I stay away from the bar, just about all the bars on this campus have places outside to sit, you know, where people can smoke, I've been and checked, and with the weather like this, who would want to sit inside anyway. I keep my head down, face away from the crowd. It'll work. And don't forget this is a university campus, student bars, student bar staff. As long as we keep our heads down, they aren't likely to give a shit."

"Got it all worked out haven't you?" Chris was unconvinced.

Nick, however, remained practical; "Look, here's the deal. We'll give you a chance. If one single bar refuses to serve us, or throws us out because of you, then you back down. You go back to bed like a good little boy, and keep your mouth shut. Deal?"

Pete and Chris had looked at each other. They were convinced Nick had won the battle, they figured after one bar that Damon would be on his way home to bed, then they could have their fun, and on top of that they had their vodka problem solved. And Damon had to admit, they might be right about that. But it didn't matter. He had his chance, and that was all that he cared about.

"Deal."

* * *

There was silence. Damon looked across the classroom, trying not to catch old Mrs Battleaxe's eye. Doctor Elvyn hadn't quite told the joke as explicitly, but, it had worked, he had the undivided attention of the class.

He clicked the remote to try and get to the next slide. It wasn't working properly, he glanced down, it was showing a warning for low batteries. Stopping now to fumble around with replacing the batteries was not a good idea, it would completely trash the advantage he'd just bought himself, and considering what it had cost him in terms of the trouble he was now going to be in, stopping just wasn't an option.

Damon looked across at the laptop that was running the slideshow. If he could just hit the enter key without having to walk over. Time was running out, he had to come up with some non-geeky excuse for getting over to the other side of the room in order to continue the presentation. He just couldn't see how that was possible. Stupid bloody laptop, screwing everything up just when he was getting on top of things. He focussed, trying to control the desire he had to storm over, throw the laptop on the floor and jump up and down on the bloody enter key to get the next slide up. He tried breathing more slowly. Giving in to the rage might make him feel better, but it wouldn't help him with the presentation.

In desperation he glared at the laptop, just wishing the slide would change. He noticed the eyes of the class turn collectively to reading the screen. Puzzled, he followed their gaze, and noted the screen was now showing his new slide. How the hell had that happened?

Damon relaxed, he would just have to accept it. His new slide was up, he hadn't had to fumble around to do it, and the momentary delay had been brief enough that he still had the full attention of the class. Now he could get back to trying to summarize the lecture...

* * *

Doctor Roger Elvyn was starting to settle into his stride.

"Talk about the evolution of humans, and for the most part you are talking fossil records. As an example here. We have two species of genus Homo co-existing around 100,000 years ago; Homo sapiens and Homo neanderthalensis. Based on fossil records we categorize them as separate species. There is fossil evidence however that Homo sapiens and Homo neanderthalensis were not only shagging, but not using condoms. Fossil evidence of mixed species kids. But wait! Separate species can't do that!

"Well, horses and donkeys can do it. Two separate species. The offspring are generally infertile. The biological definition of species is often extended to include this, remember the problems with oversimplification. So, this is possible, but it would mean these half Homo sapiens, half Homo neanderthalensis kids would be infertile. If the offspring were fertile, these two not be separate species but would rather be subspecies; Homo sapiens sapiens and Homo sapiens neanderthalensis. Fossils have not provided an answer to that one. There are limitations to what we know. This becomes important later when I talk about the competing out of Africa and multi-regionalism theories about the dominance of Homo sapiens.

"More definitions:", another slide.

"In the broadest sense, evolution is merely change and so is all pervasive; galaxies, languages and political systems all evolve." Douglas J. Futuyma, 'Evolutionary Biology', Sinauer Associates, 1986

* * *

"He then goes on to narrow the definition to biological evolution, his somewhat longer explanation has been summarized as:"

"Evolution is a process that results in heritable changes in a population spread over many generations." Laurence Moran, 'What is Evolution', /faqs/evolution-definition.html, 1993

* * *

"Man, Homo sapiens, like any other species, has evolved, despite anything the creationists might want to tell you. They joke that we can't possibly all be descended from monkeys, which only proves how completely they fail to understand evolutionary theory.

"Man descended from a common ancestry with the apes, but the species diverged about six to eight million years ago. Very, very distant cousins at best.

"The fossil record is indistinct and patchy in places. But of the side of that divergence that ultimately produced our species, Homo sapiens is the only survivor. All the other species in that branch are now extinct. No question, Homo sapiens has turned out to be a pretty successful species.

"So here we are. Potted family history." He brought up a timeline slide. "On the left Kenyanthropus and Sahelanthropus are among the earliest known hominids. Few examples found, very little is known. Ardipithecus, Australopithicus.

"Australopithicus is where it gets interesting. We are looking now at about three million years ago. The fossil records become significantly more diverse. We have maybe half a dozen species of Australopithecines, be clear this is not a straight line evolution. Some of these are sister species and were around at the same time. Think about it; what would it be like, sharing the planet with another hominid species?

"The robust australopithecines were at one time thought to be a different genus, called Paranthropus. Generally not accepted now.

"Australopithicus aferensis begat Australopithicus africanus who was probably a direct human ancestor.

"Note the complete lack of lines on this diagram showing relationships between the species. When a fossil specimen is discovered, we try to fit it into this map. The fossil record is tiny. This is a best guess at interpreting the evidence we do have, at trying to make it all fit. The fact is that fossil records in and of themselves can't give us those lines to work out how the different species relate. Where we place them is guess work at best and many of us prefer to leave those lines off the picture.

"So, then, in the middle we have a couple of curiosities. Australopithicus garhi and Homo rudolfensis. Debated, contested, are they the last of the Australopithecines, or the first ever Homos.

"That always gets a smile. Genus Homo. Yes, were are all homos.

"Homo habilis is similarly debated. One of our ancestors, or a side branch, an evolutionary dead end? Probably the latter.

"Homo ergaster and Homo erectus. One species, two species? Important note here, when we come to look at the future of human evolution and talk about speciation, which is how one species arises from another, we will revisit this question.

"For now, let us consider these as separate species as we finish our march through time.

"Homo erectus was a massively successful species, but was it our ancestor? Maybe. Generally you will see Homo heidelbergensis as deriving either from Homo erectus or Homo ergaster, and Homo heidelbegensis as giving rise to both Homo neaderthalensis and Homo sapiens. Finally us.

"So, how does one species arise from another species, and how did Homo sapiens become the dominant hominid to the extinction of all others?

"Okay, I told you there were problems with the definition of species. This directly impacts discussions on speciation. How you delimit a species is fundamental to defining the transition or evolution from one species to the next.

"Let me bring back two topics I mentioned earlier. Sexual compatibility, I questioned whether Homo neanderthalensis and Homo sapiens could produce fertile offspring. Are they species in themselves, or simply two subspecies of the same species.

"When we define species based on fossil remains, we have to talk about morphological species. We don't know if they were sexually compatible, we have no way of telling. All we can do is look at how similar their bone structure is and make an educated guess.

"In that respect, to talk about speciation in a palaeobiological context has its own problems.

"I want to describe speciation, and the two processes involved; Anagenesis and Cladogenesis. In many respects these two models underpin the two competing theories for the spread and dominance of Homo sapiens.

"Anagenesis is the change over time of one species into another. With a biological species definition, this one is a problem. Obviously at any given time the species will be sexually compatible with itself. The argument is that in fact the individual members of the species at some point would become sexually incompatible with specimens of much earlier generations. Short of inventing a time machine, you cannot prove this. Science is about being able to test theories. With Anagenesis there is no actual point of speciation. Consequently some refuse to accept it as meaningful to identify anagenesis as a speciation mechanism in and of itself. But note, we will revisit this as an option for future human evolution.

"Cladogenesis is the splitting or branching of a species. Typically this requires isolation of two groups within a species that diverge to the point where they become separate species. Sexual compatibility is much more meaningful here, though in palaeobiological terms, that doesn't help much. Often sister species will be morphologically similar, a big problem in palaeobiology when you can only use morphology to differentiate species.

"So, given these mechanisms for speciation, how did Homo sapiens evolve?

"Did I mention the paleontologists don't all agree a lot of the time? This is the big one. Multi-regionalism and Out of Africa.

"Multi-regionalism argues that Homo erectus migrated from Africa to populate the rest of the world. There was no regional isolation, but a constant movement of people between the regions. Evolution occurred essentially by anagenesis. Sapiens and neanderthalensis were subspecies of a single anagenic transition from Homo erectus. As such they were sexually compatible, they indeed constantly interbred, and consequently no cladogenic speciation occurred. Modern man, Homo sapiens is simply a product of this anagenesis, that we indeed inherited genetic material from neaderthalensis, but as well as the more dominant earlier Sapiens. This same process occurred regionally throughout all the areas Homo erectus had migrated to, and Homo erectus simply became Homo sapiens.

"Out of Africa tells a very different story. There was a migration of Homo erectus out of Africa some two million years ago. These migrations led to genetic isolation of the groups, hence cladogenesis, speciation. Homo sapiens evolved in isolation in Africa. At a later date, perhaps only some 100,000 years ago, they too migrated. They did not, on the whole, get intimate with the other hominid species they encountered. Pairings were infrequent, any offspring infertile anyway. This was a truly separate species. And they were more successful in the environment than the other hominids Homo sapiens thrived, Homo erectus and later Homo neanderthalensis failed to thrive. They were displaced by Homo sapiens, and ultimately, perhaps as recently as 30,000 years ago, finally became extinct.

"Big arguments. Right now the evidence favors the out of Africa theory. But multi-regionalism has not entirely been discounted yet, and still manages to explain a few facts that out of Africa can't. The debate will rage on a long time yet.

"So, is evolution still happening?

"Cladogenic speciation is a problem now. To a great degree we have eliminated isolation. For a group to be able to remain isolated long enough for cladogenic speciation to occur, it's hard to imagine that would be possible now. And they would be sexually incompatible with us if it did happen. Given the number of Homo sapiens in the world, and the fact the new species could only reproduce within their own group, it would take a catastrophe of almost biblical proportions to wipe out Homo sapiens. And the new species, lets call them Homo superior, a hypothetical species designation coined a long time ago, the new species would have to, in some way be immune to that catastrophe.

"More likely, I would propose, is anagenesis. We can't have isolation, we do have strong genetic crossflow. There would continue to be reproductive compatibility. Compatible subspecies could arise, a genetic trait might begin in semi-isolation, and if useful, if dominant, would propagate. By the end of the process, likely a process of hundreds of thousands of years, Homo sapiens would simply become Homo superior, as the dominant genetic trait ultimately propagated throughout the species as a whole.

"Whether multi-regionalism happened in the past is somewhat irrelevant. I propose that the principle is sound, and that it could happen in the future. Indeed, there may even be a genetic variant, a subspecies, as different from us as we are from, say, neaderthalensis. Could be sitting in this room right now. Morphologically even sister species are so similar you couldn't easily tell. And if the subspecies that person belongs to is dominant, Homo sapiens would be subsumed. Technically not extinct, as only a species can become extinct, and the dominant subspecies would survive to become Homo superior.

"Frightening thought. And interesting to think about as I mentioned earlier; what would it be like, sharing the planet with another hominid species?

"Any genetic trait that arose, back to Darwin, natural selection, would have to favor the survival and sexual propagation of that person. So, time to have some fun here as we draw this lecture to a close. What genetic traits, features, abilities do you think might exist in a population that could benefit people sufficiently to be propagated in the species and facilitate anagenesis?"

He had turned off the projector and grabbed a marker pen. Hoping maybe one of them would hand him his chance to discuss his own ideas without getting in to trouble. Hah, some chance. It was just a bunch of kids. A few hands were raised. Damon of course already had his hand raised, although he could sense Elvyn's impatience. Do this, finish, get out of here, he was thinking. Glorified baby sitting.

"Come on, lets have some interesting ideas."

* * *

Damon concluded his presentation. He looked back at all the faces still a little stunned by his sheep joke. Sure, the joke itself hadn't been that offensive, and every one of them would have sniggered at far worse on the average school day, but he'd told it in front of a class, in front of a teacher. It kind of amused him; their mock-indignation was so hypocritical, and Mrs Battleaxe for her part seemed about ready to blow a fuse. He was up shit creek for sure, but it had to be worth it, just for this one moment of being able to enjoy having shocked the fuck out of everyone so much.

No one in the class was stepping up to ask any questions. It didn't matter, they weren't interested in evolutionary biology, and none of them had the balls to ask any questions about sheep, although he could see a few were thinking that would have been the funniest thing ever if someone had asked about that.

Damon, of course, had gotten very much into the questions and answers session after the lecture, and it had brought him to the attention of Doctor Elvyn, who had actually approached him at the fruit juice and cheese reception afterwards.

* * *

"Mister Damon Jackson." Doctor Roger Elvyn had addressed him specifically.

"Doctor Elvyn, good to meet you." Damon had no clue how formal he needed to be.

"So. Am I enjoying the party?"

Damon smiled at the twisting of the question, immediately feeling a little more at ease. "You're interested by this conversation, but finding the party tedious on the whole. This isn't really your scene."

"Pretty accurate I think. And a very interesting hypothesis on your part, empathy as a genetic differentiator. Interesting because I actually think it is quite feasible, it was also a great starting point to get the discussion going. Those questions and answer discussion sessions at the end can be hell if you get a dead audience."

"So, that's why you picked me because you figured I could get the discussion started. Intuition?"

Elvyn laughed. "Experience, I'm afraid is all that was. Of the people I had picked to answer questions, you were the most sure of yourself. I've been in the business long enough to know that self confidence is the attribute most likely to get the ball rolling."

"You don't believe in intuition?" Damon had challenged. He could see Elvyn was not feeling nearly as dismissive of the phenomenon as he might have been sounding.

"Intuition is not pseudoscience at all, and I think an enhanced pattern matching ability could indeed confer evolutionary advantages. I'm just not going to lay any claim to have any particular gifts in that area."

"You think just intuition and empathy are significant enough on their own to trigger a speciation event?"

"No. Not even close. Although I can definitely see them as contributing factors, empathy more so. Clearly something that sets us apart from lower primates is our ability to intellectualize an understanding of the thoughts and feelings of others. Beneficial, in modern society certainly..."

"More of your social workers as the future of humanity claptrap, Roger?" The interjection came, according to the name tag, from one Doctor Marcus Stellman.

"Understanding how other people think and feel has to give an individual a survival advantage though?" Damon fired back. There was something about Stellman he instantly didn't like.

"Ah, yes, it clearly helps you exploit others, and no doubt that would give you an advantage."

"But I'm arguing it gives you an advantage from a cooperative and altruistic point of view, not as some mechanism for purely selfish exploitation." Elvyn countered.

Damon was starting to feel more than a little out of his depth here. "I though evolution was all about the selfish gene?"

"Right." Elvyn jumped in, "But within a social group, altruism and cooperation allow us to be selfish about the group rather than just the individual. You look after your own, there is a lot of evidence for those kinds of behaviors giving a survival advantage..."

"A point, I wish to point out, that I actually do agree on..." Stellman interrupted.

"We as Homo sapiens, wise men, have the capacity to rationalize longer term survival strategies that might in the short term appear to contradict the primal survival instinct..."

"Again, I don't disagree..."

"Helping others is a strong long term survival strategy."

"No totally wrong. Helping those who might assist you in return, that makes sense. Helping the useless, is pointless."

"But people do that, help people because it's right, not because it has any particular personal benefit." Damon tried to challenge.

"You're not entirely wrong there, boy. I'm not saying it doesn't happen. Just that it's counter to evolution. We could as a species choose to continue down that road, absolutely we could. But we'd end up extinct. Evolution is the survival of the fittest. Evolution is a fact. We ignore it, then as a species we die."

"We're all doomed, Damon. That is what Marcus believes, and what I disagree with." Elvyn smiled.

"I believe humanity will survive. Despite the fertility challenge that no one even seems to want to admit to. People so obsessed with the climate, with pollution, with energy, they kind of miss that for those problems to matter a damn we have to solve the problem that while population is still increasing for now, fertility is actually decreasing at an alarming rate. The species will survive, but I believe those genetically predisposed to altruism will not significantly contribute to the gene pool in the longer term."

"You're an old cynic Marcus. Leave young Damon here some idealism."

Damon could sense a great deal of frustration on the part of Stellman, who concealed it however by a jovial laugh before departing to go bother some other academic staff.

"As I pointed out in my lecture, academics often struggle to agree on much. He's right about the fertility problem though. So, you have some interesting ideas, you think you see a future for yourself in this line of work?"

"Well, either in genetics, or I'll end up as a social worker. Seriously. Intuition or empathy or call it what you like, but I'm pretty good at connecting with how people are feeling."

Right, Damon, he told himself... if you are so fucking good at connecting with how people are feeling, how come you are still such an awkward, friendless geek?

* * *

"Holy fuck, Damon, the look on her face when you pulled that joke about sheep shagging, I really thought steam was going to start coming out the collar of that starched dress of hers. Your presentation was shit, but it was worth it to see that." Damon's sort of friend Steve had whispered to him on the way out of the classroom.

Respect. Only a couple of them said it outright, but he could sense it as he walked out of the lesson. Just this once people weren't openly or even secretly sneering at him. Sure, he was in serious trouble with old Mrs Battleaxe, but it was worth it.

He looked up as he headed into the hall. Nick Smart grinning at him. "You told that sheep sex joke in front of old Battleaxe? You got balls kid, you got balls."

Three weeks ago Nick wouldn't have even looked at him. Now one of the coolest kids in school had spoken to him, and in front of other kids. Sure, it never bothered him before, he didn't much care what someone like Nick thought. Damon had figured that whole 'cool kids' thing was a bunch of crap. Nick more than any of them he had written off as just vacuous, two-dimensional, superficial. But it wasn't that simple. No one was ever that simple, not when you started to get to know them...

* * *

"We were invited, they said we could come. Don't worry about it." As the evening had passed, Nick's attitude had become significantly more mellow. Partly because he was getting drunk, but also partly because things had gone reassuringly smoothly since they'd headed out.

The plan had been simple, a few bars on campus, then back with a couple of bottles of vodka if they could get some. There had been nothing in there about getting invited to some student party. Damon was feeling totally out of his depth. Well, that and feeling the buzz from having had more to drink than he was used to. Okay, not really that much to drink, they'd spent more time keeping their heads down and worrying about getting caught than actually enjoying themselves. But for him, anything was more than he was used to. The others though, he'd figured those guys wouldn't have been so scared, figured they would have done this kind of stuff regularly. He had rapidly worked out that wasn't the case.

In one respect at least, though, the evening had worked out more good humored than he had though it would. For all they shit they'd given him about not wanting him along, Pete and Chris had not been that obnoxious towards him all evening. Damon had wondered that they might get awkward when they hadn't managed to get rid of him as early in the evening as they had wanted, but in the end they were happy enough that they were getting served that they really didn't seem to care whether he was there or not. He had to admit they were treating him a lot better than he really could have dared hope for.

Certainly better than he deserved after the scene he had just created. He was finding it difficult to navigate a straight line, and carrying two drinks he had collided with some student guy. Thankfully the other guy was still standing, Damon was on the floor with most of the two drinks over him. Then the guy was bearing down on him, and for a moment he was terrified the incident was going to end in violence. But as the guy reached out a hand to help him up he could see that all the guy was thinking was about how it didn't seem so long since he had been that young and that stupid. Damon had apologized, Nick had apologized on behalf of all of them. Nobody seemed to mind. Damon was more worried he had blown it, shown himself up to be the stupid kid they had accused him of being. Now Nick was telling him not to worry about it. Damon just didn't get it. Nick was one of the coolest kids in school, he didn't need to tell a geek like Damon not worry about it.

"But probably time to get out of here before you make a bigger prick of yourself."

That was more like it. More what he expected. But it wasn't malicious, and it wasn't angry. Partly it felt like Nick wanted to get out of there before he made a similar fool of himself. Partly it almost felt protective, like, he couldn't work it out. He was too drunk to work it out. But Damon was forced to admit, there was a lot more to Nick than the superficial cool guy he had thought the guy was.

And by the time they got back to campus, which was longer than they planned after getting lost in the red light district of town and turning down some frankly scary cut price student deals, the story had turned into Damon having a go at the guy and narrowly avoiding getting the shit kicked out of him, and they were telling him he was more than welcome to hang out with them for the follow up Institute event in three weeks time.

* * *

"Doctor Elvyn used the same joke in his presentation, I was summarizing that presentation and I thought it would have the same effect it had when he used it, it made genetic biology seem more down to earth, more approachable." Damon was trying to explain to the deputy head, without much success.

"To a group of students intending to study biology at university next year I am sure it did. I do not see the same applies to a class of fifteen year olds."

"It got them listening though. Ask them what a species is and I bet they remember."

"Jackson, that is not the point. That kind of humor is inappropriate in a school classroom. It was a special privilege for you to be allowed to attend this event with three of out brightest final year pupils, and I regret that our trust in you appears to have been misplaced. You may be a prodigy at biology, but clearly your common sense is not of a similar pedigree. Now, I've spoken to Nick Smart, and thankfully he informs you that your behavior at the event was more in keeping with your role at the event as an ambassador for this school, and I'm willing to accept today's incident as a momentary aberration on your part. But I will not tolerate this kind of immaturity again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You would do well to look to the likes of Nick Smart as an example of how to behave responsibly. We have said before we expect great things of you Mr Jackson, but you need to learn some discipline first. Now get out."

Damon Jackson turned and departed. Nick had told them Damon's behavior at the event was 'ambassadorial', he had nearly cracked up laughing when he heard that. And Nick Smart was an example of how to behave responsibly...

* * *

"Fuck it then, we all just go back, get wasted on the vodka." Surprisingly it was Chris who had come out with that conclusion.

Three weeks had passed and the four of them had returned to the university for the follow up session. Damon had quickly adjusted back to the others treating him just like one of the guys, but he really hadn't expected Chris to come out with that.

"Right, vodka time." Nick had agreed, and Nick's word was law.

The exchange had left Damon confused. It hadn't been a spoken thing, just assumed, that the deal would be the same as it had been the last time. That Damon would back down and go back to his room if they couldn't get served. And it wasn't that they hadn't gotten served. They had, but Damon was acutely aware of the looks they were all getting, and had concluded his best option was to cut his losses and bail out before they blamed him for trashing the evening.

What was different was that the weather had changed so abruptly. The last time it had been more than warm enough to sit outside and no one had cared that Damon was there. This time it was freezing cold, bloody May and they were half expecting it to snow. This time they had no choice, they had to sit inside, but the moment they'd walked into the bar it was clear that Damon's presence was going to be an issue. Damon had been convinced Nick was going to pull him aside for a quiet word, tell him to fuck off. The last thing he had expected was Chris to side with him, not that Damon was going to argue with him.

And so they had headed back to the campus rooms they were in for the night, turned the heating up as high as it would go, put on some music, and opened the vodka. Damon was surprised, but more than happy with the way things had turned out.

"So what do you think half-pint Jackson, ready for the big boy drink?" Pete wasn't going to let Damon forget that he was two years younger than the rest of them, or that he had ordered half pints in the bar.

"Fuck off."

"Oh you can talk like a grown up as well?"

Damon laughed. He was only just getting to accept that this was sort of good humored.

The first glass of vodka was poured.

By his third shot he felt comfortably sloshed. No worse than the others though. The level of the conversation had very quickly crashed down into the gutter.

Chris was determined to keep it there. "So you've never seen a girl naked, I mean a real girl, not just pictures."

"Never. Not even seen that many pictures."

"No internet? Fuck, what else is the internet for?" Pete was genuinely feeling sorry for Damon.

"Not allowed to have an internet connection in my bedroom."

"You don't admit to that. You're making yourself out to be a bit of a sad bastard here." Nick advised. Damon had noticed Nick didn't say all that much, but it was usually way more constructive advice than Damon had figured someone like that could manage to give.

Pete sniggered knowingly. "Hey, be nice to Nick, he can set you up with some serious hard core shit."

"Right, Pete, no way am I supplying that kind of stuff to a little boy like this one." Nick had some kind of morals.

Damon was frustrated, and in his frustration he responded a little more truthfully that he felt was probably necessary. "I am NOT a little boy. Just got bloody irritating parents."

"That is sad. Hey, more vodka for Damon. He needs cheering up." Declared Pete, downing the remainder of the glass he was holding and grabbing for the bottle again.

Chris laughed: "What he needs is a woman."

"I need a woman." Pete slurred, trying to sound soulful.

"Thought you were into sheep." Damon fired back.

"Fuck off. At least I have hair on my dick."

"Okay, that's it." The alcohol had given Damon the stupidity he needed; he stood up and dropped his pants. "Take a good look. Tell me if you don't see hair."

"No, you're sick. Alright you win, now put it away for Fuck's sake." Pete laughed reluctantly and acknowledged defeat, slumping back. The response seemed to have drained him of whatever energy he had left.

Nick was doubled up with laughing, "I can't believe you did that. Hey, Pete, it's bigger than yours. A fucking fifteen year old has a bigger cock than you."

Damon couldn't believe he'd done it either. He made a mental note never to be drunk in front of his parents.

"A Toast, a toast to hairy Jackson." Nick proposed, standing up.

"Hear hear." Chris chimed in.

That meant more vodka. They all tried to stand. Pete stumbled and fell, they propped him up against a chair, he barely seemed aware of them.

"What I don't get is there you are, prissy little shit, star pupil," Nick switched to a low, piss take voice, "'We can expect great things of you, Mr Jackson'. Then look at you now, pissed as a fart and not a bad laugh."

Damon felt good, the guy didn't realize how much that compliment meant. Nick meant it. Why the hell was Nick trying to make him feel good like that?

"In fact, little boy," Nick continued, "make me laugh that hard again and I'll totally reconsider my decision not to supply you with any porn."

They played cards, laughing, making a noise. Pete fell over, they propped him back up. The drinking continued but more slowly, they sat around taking the piss out of school teachers, laughing, making a noise. Pete fell over, they left him.

Nick stumbled out to the toilets, they heard him throw up, he stumbled back and poured another drink.

They played screwing up pieces of paper and trying to toss them in the sink, they flicked coins around the room. Still laughing, slightly more subdued.

Damon was still sipping on his last glass. His stomach didn't feel so good, and he was sure he was slurring his words.

"What is that smell?"

"Oh shit, Pete's pissed himself." Chris grimaced.

Pete was lying doubled over where they had left him, dead to the world. They could see the damp stain.

They dragged him round and pulled him up onto the bed. Damon looked morbidly at the wasted figure. Why did fun always have consequences?

Chris shrugged and yanked down the soggy pants, throwing them quickly in the sink before thoroughly washing his hands. "Fucking purple underpants. No wonder he hasn't ever got laid." He pulled the covers across, "He can sleep like that."

The remaining three of them crashed down on the floor. Nick started laughing. "Not only have you got a bigger dick, Mr half-pint Jackson, but you can hold your drink better. Cheers."

Damon downed the rest of his vodka. Nick poured out what was left, half a shot each.

"Has to be... In one."

They downed them.

There was a long pause, a silent realization with the drink gone they they couldn't avoid having to get up in the morning.

"Will he be alright?" Damon asked.

Chris glanced up. "Not if he throws up. If he throws up in here I'll fucking kill him."

Damon laughed, and felt his stomach heave.

"And if you throw up in here, I'll fucking kill you." Chris got up, steadied himself, and went across to his bed, pulling open his sports bag.

"I know, stumble to bathroom to throw up. Hey, I've learned from watching a pro."

"Too right." Nick stood up slowly, "Seriously though Damon, go throw up now. I have to share a room with you."

Chris dropped his pants to the floor and stepped out of them. "Woohoo, look little boy, I also have a big fat hairy..."

Damon looked, gagged, and made a bolt for the toilets. Nick and Chris cracked up laughing.

He woke up in the toilet cubicle. More abruptly than he was in any shape to be waking up. He was feeling disoriented, last thing he remembered was being in the middle of throwing up and someone shouting at him to shut the fuck up. Yeah, like any twat trying to sleep in the toilets deserved peace and quiet.

He could still smell the vomit, he had managed to pass out before flushing. He grabbed and pulled the flush thing, then tried to drag himself to his feet. His head was splitting, he stopped at the sink to gulp down mouthfuls of fresh water, and generally clean himself up. He only had to make it two doors down the corridor before he could collapse in bed.

He looked at his watch; 4:32 AM. He'd been asleep in the toilets for over three hours? Shit. That was messed up. His forearm was messed up too. Looked badly bruised, cut. He must have fallen against something, really cut himself quite badly. It was itching like crazy. Not good, the toilet floor was not the most hygienic of places to have been lying with an open wound like that. He had antiseptic, in the medical kit his mother had made him pack. For once her overprotective insanity would be useful. Now if he could just make it back to the room.

There was a fun part to getting drunk, but he had a problem with the loss of control. The throwing up part wasn't so great either. He held on to the wall for support as he made for the exit. His head was still spinning, although not as violently as before. He could hear interrupted snoring sounded like it was coming from another one of the cubicles, he definitely didn't want to hang around.

The corridor was dark and empty. He stumbled uncertainly back to the room. Nick was lying curled up on the floor unconscious, one sock on, one sock off, clutching a towel. Damon didn't want to know.

He pulled his own clothes off, dumped them over the chair and pulled his pajama bottoms on. He managed to wipe his arm with the antiseptic where he had cut it, then roughly tape a bandage over. That was about as much concentration as he could manage. He fell onto his bed, managing to vaguely pull a sheet over himself. He lay back, the room slowly rotating above him, his head hurting.

Nick was snoring. Bloody loudly. Nope, it couldn't be Nick, Nick was still lying passed out on the floor, and making a strange subdued sobbing noise like he was crying in his sleep, but not snoring. Jake was snoring. Damon called out to him to tell him to shut up, but Jake didn't seem to be listening.

Hold on, Damon struggled to think straight. Who the hell was Jake? There was no one else in the room. At least, no, he was pretty sure there was no one else in the room.

"Jake?" He called out loud, just to reassure himself. There was no reply.

He closed his eyes. Damn, he'd left the computer on. He fought the confusion; there was no computer, he was in a student dorm room, there was nothing like that there. Except he could hear it, and it really irritated him that it was still on. No problem, there or not he could fix that. It clicked off and there was an odd silence, well, except for Jake still snoring intermittently.

"Jake!" He shouted one last time. There was no Jake, but it must have worked, because whoever it was that wasn't there had at least shut up snoring. This whole getting drunk experience was way more weird than he had ever figured it would be. Damon joyfully surrendered to unconsciousness.

* * *

**3: Insanity Check**

* * *

Jake had found himself disproportionately fixated on his detention as the next two days had passed. In a way that had been a good thing, it gave him some respite from spending all his time fixated on his mental problems. On that front the headaches had been intermittent, he'd been able to work around them for the most part. And the voices, although they hadn't gone silent at school by any means, had at least managed to avoid being too much of a distraction. He was coping.

News of his detention had spread quickly throughout the school. Ms Hinton had something of a reputation and there were a lot of undoubtedly very untrue things implied about what happened in her detentions. there was a general consensus of opinion that she had a secret life as a dungeon dominatrix. Jake struggled to read her for the most part but he was pretty certain there was no truth to that rumor at all, something like that would have been easy to see even with her. But there would be an expectation of a story to tell about what happened in the detention, that was something he knew he was going to have to contend with on Friday. He already had a pretty good idea how he was going to handle it; he was going to state categorically that nothing at all happened, and smile while he did so. Despite his protestations, no one would believe him, and the buzz would be all very amusing. He loved telling the truth when he knew no one would ever believe him.

Jake's biggest problem right now, though, was that the wait was proving torturous. The hours had seemed endless sat in lesson after lesson trying to get to where Tuesday could finish, and Wednesday hadn't exactly managed to pick up the pace any. And like a bad dream, the closer he got to the finish line, the slower time seemed to pass. Chemistry was Jake's last lesson of the day and he could usually count on the Fiedler to keep them in late. Fiedler was just like that, disorganized, always a dozen things to get sorted at the end before they could go. It would be so cool; he would be late for his detention, Ms Hinton would get so pissed off, but he would have the perfect excuse. Except it hadn't happened. Of all the times Fiedler could get a clue and let them out early it had to be tonight.

Now he found himself still waiting, waiting for her in an empty classroom. Waiting he could have done without. She was late. He glanced at his watch; it was nearly four. He found his mind wandering. He liked that watch. A real watch, clockwork, he had to wind it up daily. It had been a gift from grandfather, very shortly before his grandfather had died. He wasn't particularly a sentimental guy, but the watch was an exception.

His mind wandering, that was why the days had felt like they had gone so slowly, he hadn't been able to focus on just getting from one moment to the next. He had to keep his attention on the matter at hand.

He opened his bag, took out his homework and tried various ways of lying it out on the desk, trying to settle on the way that looked most business like. He was bored, he'd been sitting there for fifteen minutes. She had to turn up. He didn't dare leave, that would be suicide for his teachers pet image. Could she have forgotten? Or was she doing this deliberately, trying to throw him off balance? He wouldn't put it past her. He shifted nervously on his seat, if that was her plan then she was succeeding.

He adjusted the books on the desk. The work was completely correct, beautifully laid out. He wasn't going to allow her any legitimate opportunity to criticize him.

His mind started wandering again. And not in directions that were all that productive. He found himself thinking about the last conversation he'd had with Ms Hinton, her getting all unreasonable and giving him the detention. Except he wasn't thinking so much about what she had said, he was more remembering what her breasts had looked like while she was saying it. No bloody wonder she had a reputation for illicit trysts with pupils, wearing clothes like that. Jake tried to pull himself back to reality. In truth, as attractive as he found her, and she was seriously attractive, he didn't really have any particular desire to get off with a teacher.

"I take it this is your homework."

She startled him, reaching over his shoulder to pick up the book. She must have been damn quiet arriving, or had he been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had failed to notice. How long had she been standing there? He kind of hoped she couldn't read minds. He tried to swallow back his momentary inability to speak and managed to croak rather weakly, "Yes, Miss."

"I assume full marks as usual. To be honest it was only an excuse to get you here."

He froze, he was ready to freak. What the hell was she saying? Did she really want to handcuff him naked to the chair and thrash him on the backside with a leather belt until he begged for forgiveness? He couldn't see what she was thinking, if he was looking for reassurance he wasn't going to find it.

"Alright, you've got an attitude problem, show me a sixteen year old kid who hasn't. You start acting like you can't hear me. Funny joke, makes you look cool to the other kids, only I can see it isn't a joke. You really are so totally distracted you aren't hearing, and you've started looking like the walking dead in lessons, so it is pretty clear you aren't sleeping. Right. I've seen abuse, bullying, girlfriend troubles, lack of girlfriend troubles. And you don't fit any of those categories. I admit, I'm puzzled."

Jake remained frozen, she had walked round the desk and was now sat opposite. He kept staring down at the books on the desk. He couldn't bring himself to look up. Couldn't look her in the eye. Couldn't really understand.

"You are intelligent, you have a hell of a lot of potential. But you've got something on your mind. Something in your eyes says that something is not right in your life, or would if you bothered to look at me."

He looked up, she left him little choice. He felt on the verge of tears, this was not how it was meant to go. He tried to speak, his voice cracking up. He was so out of his depth. It would have been easier if she was shouting at him. He would have known how to deal with that. "I..."

"I didn't expect you to answer. I am fully aware of your golden boy image. Not all of us fall for it. Teachers are not all as stupid as you would like to think. But you need to work this out, whatever it is. If this goes on you could quickly end up deeper in shit than even you can dig yourself out of."

Jake remained silent.

"Think about it. Now, get out, go home."

He was thankful that he had the next day off.

* * *

The hearing test went well, in fact the Doctor had told him his hearing was extremely acute. Jake had, in a moment of misplaced cynicism, felt like asking if that was why he could hear things that weren't there, but fortunately had restrained himself. Anyway, he'd passed the test, the voices had been well behaved for a change.

In an uncharacteristic concession Jake had mentioned the headaches. Just made the comment in passing, kept the admission restricted to one or two mild headaches, nothing significant. He'd been able to see the Doctor struggling, determined to come up with some explanation for the problem, something he could report to Jake's mother that sounded at least half convincing, the Doctor was almost as used to dealing with her as Jake was. The headaches would give him an alternative direction to work from, something to help him come up with a diagnosis that would satisfy her without unduly causing concern.

The Doctor had risen to the challenge and come up with a pretty outstanding story. The trouble, Jake's mother had been assured, was simply one of overwork at school causing problems with his concentration, all because he was 'at that age'. Overwork at school, the doctor had said. Jake couldn't believe his luck; he would have paid the guy good money for a diagnosis like that.

The down side was that his mother was now insisting that he made the effort to get out and get more fresh air. Every silver lining...

* * *

Friday morning came too quickly. Thursday had stubbornly refused to last nearly as long as either Tuesday or Wednesday had. Why was life always screwed up like that? The one day of the week Jake would really have appreciated spending a little more time enjoying and it had slipped away with such a fleeting disregard for his sense of justice. The week really hadn't ended up feeling particularly balanced.

He rocked back on the chair and put his feet up on the bench top. He had been first to arrive again, as he generally always was. He liked getting there early, he liked the solitude, the quiet. The only noise was the whine of the heater. Well, the only real noise was the whine of the heater, there were unreal ones but he was trying to ignore those.

His contemplation on the unfairness of the perception of time was interrupted by three knocks on the door rapidly followed by the arrival of Mike.

"Where did that come from?" Mike had asked immediately on coming through the door.

"Oh, what, the DVD player?" Jake mused innocently.

"That's from the language lab."

"Yes. On loan."

"On loan, from the language lab?" Mike repeated.

"Yes. I know you're slow, but; language lab, on loan, yes. Right?"

"You swiped it?"

"No. Can't swipe. There's an alarm. Goes off if you try to take any of the equipment out of the lab. Only a teacher can turn that off. So, how could I have swiped it? Anyway, there's an entry in the loan book, to say it was legitimately moved. Go check if you don't believe me. And, if anyone wants to find it, they'll find it. In the meantime, we have it. On loan."

"On loan?"

"Mike, you're not only thick, you're starting to sound like a broken record. And, you do know what a broken record is, right?"

"How the hell did you pull that off?"

"Pull what off?"

"Pull... This conversation isn't really going anywhere is it?"

"No."

"Right."

"Want to watch some French oral DVDs?"

Jake observed that at this point Mike had pretty much given up caring exactly where the player had come from. Jake smiled, it was helpful when people were predictable. Made them so much easier to deal with. But not Ms Hinton, he still didn't quite know how to react to his encounter with Ms Hinton. Not much predictability there. And Kath wasn't much better.

* * *

Jake sat through an uneventful Physics lesson followed by an unusually uneventful maths lesson. The maths was probably less eventful than it should have been because he was too distracted fighting a headache to have been his normal irritating self. Subdued was okay, it confused the hell out of her, and it confused the hell out of the rest of the people in the class who were expecting some kind of smoldering fireworks. If he couldn't get the reaction he wanted out of people, confusing the hell out of them was the next best thing.

He had walked back to the store room with Kath. Something about that kind of confused him. She normally went for lunch with a bunch of her girl friends. Jake liked confusing others, but he hated being confused himself. Kath had to have a motive, a reason to have followed him back there. If it hadn't been for the headache it would have made for an interesting game trying to work out what exactly she was up to. But he did have a headache, and any level of paying attention to her was an effort.

"So, I thought you would call me. Get up to much last night?" Kath went for a standard generic opening statement. Always a sign with her that she had an ulterior motive. She was usually direct and to the point.

"Yeah probably." Jake went for a good generic response. It just didn't fit.

"You aren't listening to a word I'm saying are you?"

"I don't really know. Why?"

"Has Dean got the hots for me?"

"Okay."

"Okay, what? Try listening. Is Dean having completely inappropriate sexual fantasies about me?"

"Yeah, I, maybe, don't know."

"My naked body?"

"You, sorry, what did you say?"

"Hello! What is up with you?"

"Sorry. I'm having real issues with focus right now. Pretty bad headache."

"Right, good excuse. Must remember that one next time Dean asks me on a lunch date in the school canteen."

Jake looked up. At least now he knew what she had been loitering to find out about. She'd finally worked out about Dean. Jake had known for months, but it didn't much surprise him to discover it had taken this long for other people to work it out, most people were very slow to catch on. He'd expected more of Kath though, and even now she was only just guessing. Well, discussing Dean's confessions of undying infatuation with her, that wasn't a conversation he was really in much of a condition to get into right now, so he avoided it. "Aren't you late for Biology?"

"As late as you are for Chemistry."

"Right." It wasn't a great direction to pull the conversation it, but there was silence, it had achieved that much.

The silence continued long enough to let Jake feel like he had recaptured the advantage. He was struggling with the conversation though. Even if it hadn't been for the headache, he was too preoccupied with what Hinton had been saying to have engaged with what Kath was wanting to talk about. A thought crossed his mind. He hesitated, he figured this wouldn't go well, but, she would at least tell him the truth. "Alright, look. Have I been acting weird. I mean, the last few weeks, more weird than usual?"

"Talk about a loaded question, what brought that on?"

"Hinton, Wednesday night, said I'd been acting weird. She was concerned for my welfare. I know I piss her off, but have I been acting any worse recently? And then the Doctor yesterday, said I had concentration problems."

"You seem more distant at times. I have noticed that. But not any more weird."

"Distant?"

"Like you're thinking about something the whole time. Like you're here in body but not spirit half the time."

So, they had noticed something. Everyone knew something was up, no one knew what. How the hell had he missed that?

"Yeah, I guess. I suppose the headaches I've been getting, they have kind of they've been getting worse."

"They're getting worse, shit, Jake, shouldn't you be telling someone?"

"Telling you."

"I mean telling someone who actually gives a shit. Headaches, getting worse, you know, it could be serious."

"If there was something serious wrong then I figure they'd have caught it on Wednesday."

"At a hearing test, you think?"

"I mentioned the headaches."

"Right, Jake, but if you'd told him you were getting headaches that were so bad they were driving you to distraction already, and getting worse. Let me guess, they got the diagnosis totally wrong?."

"Yeah well, you're too right there. Said I'd been working too hard. I mean, me, working hard? Bleeding joke."

"You do work. Harder than you admit. And you're so tense the whole time, because you're always having to play mind games with people. When was the last time you actually felt relaxed?"

"How can I relax? I can't think straight, and I'm tense the whole time because..." He stopped...

"Because?"

Admitting to the headaches was one thing. Admitting to the voices... No. That wasn't an option.

"Because you're human, maybe. Seriously, Mr Always Perfect, I was beginning to wonder."

He looked up sharply. She was smiling at him. For the second time in almost as many days, he didn't know how to react.

"Seriously though, I think you need to think about telling someone about the headaches, that's just good advice Jake."

Jake frowned. She was sounding like his mother. She was right, but she was sounding way too much like his mother. Still, he could easily change the topic of conversation. Get back in control. "About Dean. Yes, he's totally got the hots for you. Has for months, you only just noticed?"

* * *

Saturday was fun. Well, other than having to sit through breakfast listening to his mother buying into the hysteria over another abduction. That had encouraged him to actually take a couple of ibuprofen, not something he was that willing to do regularly as a way to combat the headaches, but he figured it would give him a chance to really enjoy the afternoon in town with Dean and Kath. And the afternoon was set for some interesting entertainment with how nervous Dean was getting around Kath now that he suspected she knew something, and how much Kath was trying politely to ignore the way Dean was behaving because she did know something.

Right now though, the conversation had dried up. They had stopped for lunch at the food court in the mall and had managed to get a table on the balcony, sat by the railing overlooking the park below. It was a great place to stop and watch the world go by. But not so great when Dean was desperately trying not to be seen staring so obviously at Kath's cleavage. Jake decided to intervene and distract them.

"So, those two down on the park bench. Sat, half close, but not that together, but, closer than you would sit to someone you didn't know without risking getting a slap."

"You having a lot of experience of that, right." Kath liked her barbed responses.

"Right. So, you can see they aren't looking at each other. Both staring straight ahead. Both looking kind of blank. Well, they're not married, but she was like thinking it was only a matter of time. You know, they'd moved in together, seemed to be working out. Until this morning, instead of meeting him here, she heads home unusually early from her Saturday morning gym session, finds him in the bedroom, tied face down on the bed with handcuffs, and a milk bottle stuck half way up his ass."

"Come on, fuck off Jake. You're sick." Dean found it funny, but hated admitting that in front of Kath.

"Hey, I'm not sick. I'm telling it like it is. He was getting it on kinky with the milkman."

"And you can tell that, at this distance, just by looking at the way they're sitting." Kath pushed for some rationality.

"From the way he's sitting, look at him, obvious there was a milk bottle up there and not that long ago."

"You would know."

"No I wouldn't, I don't do milk bottles. And from the way she won't look at him, and she's got those tickets in her hand for the holiday in Venice, but now she doesn't want to go because he once made a comment about a gondolier's ass, and now she's convinced he only wants to get to Venice for some prime time gondolier bondage. When in fact he was only planning to propose to her there, and the thing with the milkman was his own repressed fear of commitment subconsciously trying to screw up his plans to get married. And he really does love her. But he's convinced it is all fucked up and over between them now. Of course, she would like nothing more than having a threesome with him and a gondolier there."

"And you can tell that how exactly?"

"That way she curls her lip, look."

"Right. Of course you're totally insane."

"So, go ask them. Prove me wrong."

"One of these days I will."

"And boy, will you be embarrassed."

"Why them? I mean, why pick on them?" Dean had remained silent for some time, but always managed to interject with questions that Jake considered half intelligent.

"They're upset I guess. Makes them louder than everyone else down there. Not talking about loud as in noise, but, you know, loud as in Hawaiian shirt. They stand out. And the fact that what they're thinking about is more than a little bit, well, not your normal domestic, adds some kind of clarity. They just, stand out like a bloody sore thumb. I mean, why wouldn't I pick them. You telling me you can't see it?"

"I don't know whether you're serious or, no, I don't get it. You're totally serious. How the hell can you be so outrageous, and yet so bloody sincere? No fucking wonder you can wind people around your little finger." Dean was genuinely impressed though.

"People for the most part are completely transparent and predictable. What I don't get is why no one else seems to notice that. I mean, are you all just stupid?" He phrased it as an obvious wind up, but once again observed that he was telling the truth knowing no one would believe him.

"You know, Jake, one day you are going to screw up. I mean it. Big time." Kath, as always, spoke with a blunt and heartfelt honesty and still managed to make it sound like a wind up. "I like you, fuck knows why, you're arrogant and I never know whether you're telling the truth, or just telling me what I want to hear. And honestly, mostly I think you tell me what I want to hear and it scares the crap out of me that you know what I want to hear so precisely. But for all I like you, I would still love to be there to watch when you do totally lose it."

Jake grinned, he so enjoyed messing with people's minds like that. Sure he made the stories up that he told Kath and the guys. But, just sometimes it almost felt like it did seem clear to him what the people were thinking. With most people it was kind of a mumble, mostly just vague ideas, very much a sensation more about emotions and feelings. A few it was just like a color wash, a general awareness of happiness and sadness and some range inbetween. A very small number positively screamed out thoughts with a clarity that was kind of unnerving, usually when they were upset or really feeling things intensely, telling him their stories whether he wanted to hear or not. He was almost half afraid Kath would go and ask some time, because sometimes he could half convince himself that the stories were true, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to find out that maybe he really could read minds.

* * *

On Sunday he grudgingly complied with his mothers advice to get some fresh air and found himself out walking along the sea front despite a freezing cold wind. The beach was almost deserted, sure the cold was a big factor there, but he figured the growing climate of fear over the missing kids must have had some impact as well. That worked to his advantage though, he could enjoy the solitude. It was always tough to manage any level of detachment if there were too many people around. That much of what he had said to Dean was true, people were just loud like that, Hawaiian shirt loud. Always thinking, always feeling, always just being people. It was difficult to escape, to find the solitude he needed.

At one point he'd wondered if the voices he was hearing in his head were in some way connected with that, just a different manifestation of the same basic phenomenon. The voices though, he heard those even when there was no one else around, so the idea didn't really work. There was also the fact he'd always been aware of what people were thinking, feeling, as long as he could remember, the voices though were something recent, something new.

Hearing voices was also a common symptom of schizophrenia among other things, and Jake was worried that could easily earn him the label of being completely mad if he wasn't careful. Then there was the question of awareness; if the voices did seem to be aware of him, then he had to give in and accept it was something like schizophrenia. On the other hand, maybe the voices were just his own subconscious mind trying to tell him something important, like, he was being a bit of a tit and needed to stop. No, that made even less sense to him. Plus it didn't explain where the headaches fitted in to all this, and it seemed pretty likely they were clearly connected. These were not normal headaches, not when they were getting to be this intense and this frequent. Something was very wrong there. He could try to rationalize, try to write it off, try to pretend as much as he wanted, but none of that would change the basic problem; he was screwed up. Kath was right, he had to talk to someone. Except he couldn't, it was all so insane that he knew no one would believe him.

He didn't know what to think, he was confused. He stopped and leant against the railings, watching the waves breaking on the shore. Out to sea there was a heavy fog, penetrated only by the periodic sweep of the lighthouse on the mouth of the river. How much longer could he go on faking it, pretending nothing was going on? How long before he had to give in and get real help? Maybe if he ignored it long enough it would all just go away. The one cheerful thought he clung onto was that at least it couldn't get any worse.

* * *

On Monday morning he had another headache. And this one was bad. Made it tough to enjoy the entertainment; Mike was winding up Dean, fairly normal for a Monday morning.

"You like her?" Mike had clearly heard the rumors.

"No." Dean clearly hadn't realized that by now everyone had heard the rumors.

"So you do."

"No."

"That is the least convincing 'no' I've heard in a long time. Come on, trying saying it again, with feeling this time."

"Fuck off Mike."

You wouldn't be getting this wound up if you didn't like her, now would you?"

"Will you just shut it."

"Nice tits. I mean, I have to say, she does have nice tits."

"That's not even funny."

"Come on seriously, if you like her you need to say something to her."

"Right. Like what?"

"I like your tits, want a shag?"

Jake looked up. Dean was at his limit. Mike was cruising for a punch. Well, bitch slap was likely more Dean's style. Truth was, Mike was pretty lame at pushing and had never pushed Dean over the limit, so they had never seen what he would do, but Jake was pretty sure a bitch slap would be the result.

"Hey, joking." Mike backed down, only just in time, although probably more out of luck than judgment. "I just think, you know, really. You should say something."

Jake was surprised, good of Mike to end it with some positive reinforcement for once. That wasn't something Mike was usually any good at getting right. Jake all too often found himself having to step in to pick up the pieces and get them talking again, Dean had definite insecurity issues.

But, although it was fun to listen too, the conversation hadn't been distracting enough to take Jake's mind off the fact that his headache was fucking killing him.

* * *

Chemistry had been a farce; Feidler was ill and the few of them who bothered hanging around for the lesson spent their time pissing around, connecting a hydrogen cylinder up to a Bunsen burner, see how hot they could get it. Hot enough to start melting the burner was the answer. It would have been a great laugh had his head been in any condition to cope with it. The Physics lesson that followed wasn't bad; he just ignored everything. He'd retired quickly to the store room after that.

Lunchtime had similarly provided little respite. He'd actually done his maths homework over the weekend this time, which was just as well as the extent of his headache wouldn't have allowed him to use the lunchtime to get anything useful done at all. That and the fact the voices were now about the worst they had ever been. In moments he had almost even been able to make out what they were saying. Odd phrases had broken to the surface; dirty videos, killing parents. He hadn't bothered trying to make any sense of it.

Now his watch was telling him that it was time he headed to the lesson. He reluctantly he pulled himself to his feet. The throbbing quickly got worse. This was no good, this was not working, what he needed was to lie down. But that really wasn't one of his options right now.

He steadied himself, tried to focus on the route he had to walk. The classrooms were not that far, he could make it. Out the store room door, up the stairs, across the yard, that was all he had to do, how could he possibly screw that up.

Fear. Fear? What the hell was he afraid of? He glanced around nervously, nothing, just the store room, no one there but him. No one else would be back there, not today. One more lesson and the day was over. He just had to get to that lesson, and he could surely manage that.

Panic, he had to run, run if he wanted to live. No, that was nuts, all he needed to do was walk to the next lesson, only he wasn't exactly making a brilliant job of doing that. He could see the door to the store room ahead. Just a few steps and he could be out of there and on his way. He flinched, something coming towards him he couldn't run fast enough to dodge, he looked wildly around, but there was nothing. His balance gave way, and he fell backwards back into his seat.

* * *

Jake was sitting in a chair in the store room. In the store room, it felt like he'd been sat there in the store room only minutes earlier, what was he doing back there so soon? Didn't he have a lesson to go to? He looked down at his watch, it had just gone 4:00 PM. School was out. He sat momentarily immobile, scared, confused. Where the fuck had the past three hours gone? Had he been sitting there the whole fucking time? Why couldn't he remember what had happened? It didn't make sense.

In a panic he checked the date on his watch, he was relieved to find it was still Monday. Relieved, but the feeling was superficial; it didn't make things easier, it just didn't make things worse. This was fucked up, this was all very, very fucked up.

He had to get out of there, had to get home. Had to get out now, he was already in danger of being missed. But what had happened? Had he fallen asleep? It didn't feel like he'd been asleep. And he'd never slept sat upright and motionless in a chair for three hours, or fallen asleep in a moment of panic before.

Panic... he remembered that part. Something really weird had been going on. Okay, paranoid delusions had been going on.

Overwork. The doctor had diagnosed overwork, could overwork have caused this? Caused what? Jake wasn't sure he had enough of a clue to even begin guessing.

He managed to stand up, but he was feeling dizzy, extremely light headed. He felt himself loosing balance, he quickly tried to sit down again but missed the chair, found himself sprawled on the floor.

"Jake, you okay?"

He looked up panicked, he didn't want anyone seeing him like this. Except, there was no one there to see him. No one there to talk to him. So he was hearing things. But not random things, not indistinct background chatter. And not misheard, muffled, mutterings mistaken for his name in a state of half sleep. Denial wasn't going to help this time, this time the voice hadn't just said his name, it really had sounded like it was trying to start a conversation with him. That made it schizophrenia.

Jake pulled him up and back to sitting in the chair. He found himself blinking, trying to hold back tears. There was no point getting hysterical about it, that wasn't going to help.

He'd had some kind of major mental aberration, a blackout. It had to be connected with the headaches, it had to be connected with the voices. He really was totally fucked up, and he needed help. He'd tried to convince himself both the voices and headaches might just go away, they hadn't. He had thought it couldn't get any worse, it had. The voices and the headaches he could fake his way through, but not this. There was no way he could reliably cover up something like this if it ever happened again. And it was probably going to happen again. Who the fuck was he kidding if he tried to pretend otherwise?

He tried to stand a second time. This time he was more successful. He had to call, come up with some excuse for being late home, then he had to get to the bus stop, get home. Which really shouldn't have been so big a task, only Jake was well aware how badly he'd failed hours earlier just trying to get as far as a maths lesson. Anyway, once he was home, then he could think. Think how he was going to get help.

* * *

Somehow he made it home. Somehow he managed to fake acting rational in front of his parents long enough to eat something, make his apologies and head for an extremely early night.

Lying in bed the voices were so loud he couldn't sleep, and so clear, they sounded almost as if they were in the room with him. He was desperately trying not to listen to what they were saying, that would be tempting fate. He didn't want to hear.

He felt frustrated. It was no good, there was nothing he could do, he was losing control. And on top of all of that it was too hot in his bedroom. He couldn't believe it could really be as hot as it felt, he had the heating on the lowest setting and there was still a heavy frost outside. It didn't add up.

He was stressed out. Overwork? Could this really all be about overwork? No, that was just a story he was using to trade on people's sympathy. The last thing he needed was to start falling for his own confidence tricks. No, it had to be something else, he just had no clue what. The whole fucking mess was so hard to understand, and he wanted so desperately to understand it. He was struggling to reach any answers. He knew he had to tell someone, anyone. He just didn't know how, and with the state he was in, his mind was too messed up to give him much opportunity to think the situation through rationally.

If he slept at all that night, it was fitfully at best, he wasn't sure. He certainly didn't manage to get the relaxation he was so desperately in need of.

* * *

When he stepped off the bus outside of school on the Tuesday morning he was shivering, freezing. He didn't have his coat, he hadn't remembered it was still fucking cold out even if it was the first week of June. Hadn't worked out that a coat might have been useful. He really wasn't thinking straight at all. He needed time to get his head together, to sort out some kind of plan, but any hope of concentrating on how he could make that happen was being buggered up by yet another headache. The situation was just too messed up. For now he was resorting to going through the motions because he couldn't work out what else to do.

He stumbled into the store room, locked the door, turned on the lights, turned on the heater, and turned on the kettle. No one ever got down there before lunch time on a Tuesday, he would see the others in class first. That gave him an hour or so to try and pull himself together ahead of the lesson. He sat down in his chair, yawning. It wasn't even nine in the morning, but he felt so tired. He poured his coffee, and drifted unintentionally off to sleep.

* * *

He awoke still feeling awful. He was hot. He reached across and pulled the heaters plug out. The effort was too much, he slumped back into the chair. It was almost lunchtime. Great. He had missed the only lesson he actually needed to turn up for that day. The voices were louder than ever, he had to shout to think above them. He was in serious shit, and the situation was rapidly escalating out of control.

The room felt like it was burning up. He contemplated the effort required to get the fan heater blowing cold air; more than he could be bothered to exert. He had to get out of there, go home. Crash out. Then he just had to tell someone, even if he did figure no one would understand or have any clue how to help. Even if they just locked him up and drugged him up for being mad, it had to be better than this. The situation was way beyond anything he could handle on his own.

He pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He walked slowly and dejectedly over to the door and reached for the handle. There wasn't one there. He halted, confused; there had to be a handle, he was holding it, he could feel it in his hand. He could see the rest of the door no problem, just no handle. Damn it, it was in his hand and he couldn't see it. He couldn't see his hand either. He could see his arm, he followed it down, but somewhere just before he reached the hand he found himself looking at the door. As if some small portion of reality had been erased from his vision.

He pulled his hand away from the door sharply and looked at it. It still wasn't there, but in the background he caught sight of the handle, once more in it's rightful place on the door. His eyes immediately shifted to focus on it and it promptly vanished, and as it did so his hand appeared to rejoin the end of his arm.

He closed his eyes and opened the door, his head screaming in opposition to any potential attempt at rational thought. He made it up the stairs and out into the yard.

'Jake.'

"Yeah," he called, turning around. Nobody, except for a few weirdoes giving him funny looks.

'Jake.'

In front of him this time, he looked round. Just people he didn't know. The one he was looking at had no head. None of them had heads, except when he wasn't looking at them.

'Jake.'

He panicked, it was one of his voices, calling out his name. He turned and stumbled uncertainly towards the open school gates. He had trouble keeping his balance; there was ground, sky, but most of the horizon wasn't there, just the bits on the edges. He vaguely felt himself bumping into people who weren't there either. He pushed past them. Running from the voice. He could hear it so clearly, calling out his name, coming closer. He had to get away. He started to run, he couldn't see where he was running, pretty much everything wasn't there any more. It didn't matter, he just had to run, just had to get away. Faster, faster, he could sense whoever, whatever it was gaining on him. He momentarily glanced back to see a figure dressed in something extremely unfashionable and dorky, reaching out to him. It didn't make sense, he was going blind, couldn't see anything of the world around him any more, and yet he could see this person so clearly. And something about the face was vaguely familiar.

'For God's sake get out of the fucking road.'

The guy was looking at him in terror, the emotions were all wrong, this didn't seem like someone who was after him. And what the hell was all that about the road? Was that some kind of manifestation of his subconscious trying to tell him something? Then he heard a screeching noise accompanied by a car horn. The bleeding obvious meaning of the warning had finally occurred to him. He tried to twist around, but he had no clue where the noise was coming from, he still couldn't see a thing. He smelt burning rubber, and then felt an all consuming darkness surround him, pulling him inexorably downwards.

* * *

**4: Having A Life Is A Crime?**

* * *

"Right. And you want to try telling that to Adam Kennywell. Yes, listen to that name; Adam Kennywell. He thought it was fine to go out and visit his friends on Monday. Just five days ago. Fine, despite a story in THAT morning's newspaper about a girl called Lindsay Jameson. I am sure he told his mother exactly the same story about being careful that you are telling me right now. But did it help him? No. He's probably dead now is Adam Kennywell, buried in a shallow grave in the basement of a terraced house in Liverpool most likely, right next to the shallow grave of Lindsay Jameson. And you just want to take the same risk. And if you end up dead do you think it will console me that I will be able to say I told you so? Well, no it won't. Two children in five days. I don't think that is an acceptable risk. We will drive you there. When you want to come back you will call, and we will drive back there to pick you up. And you stay inside until we get there. And I don't care even if it is just a ten minute walk, you are NOT walking, and that is final."

She used the magic words. When she said 'and that is final', Damon pretty much knew it was no longer an option to try and change her mind. He had long ago learned to pick his battles. This was just another Saturday afternoon out with his friends, and he didn't actually mind getting driven there and collected. At least she was allowing him to go. When he'd first seen the headline he had been afraid that all his effort scripting his report about the events of the afternoon would go to waste.

And he had a really good script prepared this time, although it was a pretty sad situation that he needed one. He would go out and his mother would continuously be asking him where he was going, what he was up to, who he was with. Brief words wouldn't suffice, she wanted a minute by minute account. He was frightened of being vague, she would get suspicious of any vagueness immediately. His basic method was to stretch out the tales of the more mundane events to fit the time he had to account for. He was concerned that sooner or later he would slip up. His mother never missed a thing; watching television thrillers she could usually spot whodunit before even the writers had worked it out. Not that he was allowed to watch television thrillers, too much sex and violence. He had to watch that stuff when he went to friend's houses. She would be more than a little furious if she found out about that as well. She didn't approve of his friends at the best of times.

Damon hated it, hated the deception, hated the need for the deception, hated getting treated like he was still nine years old. And none of this did anything to help him shake off his geek reputation, just when he was making some real progress starting break free from that at school. Now he was resigned to look a complete twat when he told his friends he would have to be escorted home. But, his mother had an apparent determination to contribute to the general climate of fear over the abductions, and nothing Damon could say or do was going to change that.

All because some idiot of a kid called Adam Kennywell got himself missing. Maybe Adam Kennywell had just run away from home. Maybe his mother had been even worse than Damon's. No, the newspapers never went there, never gave anything but the most glowing reports about how these kids had stable home lives. He had thought about it, running away. Never seriously, he had nowhere to go, he was too much of a realist. But there were moments when abduction seemed almost seemed like a preferable alternative. Could hardly be worse, he already felt like a prisoner. Weird déjà vu though, Damon could swear he had heard that name Adam Kennywell somewhere before.

* * *

"Beer Damon?" Steve asked.

"No thanks." Damon replied. Steve was probably about as close as he had to a best friend. He wasn't entirely the friendless geek he considered himself, he just wasn't sure how much they were really friends, how much just people he hung out with because they were geeks as well. Much as he enjoyed hanging out with them at times, Damon never really felt like he connected with them in any way beyond that.

"Wash your mouth out with cool, minty, refreshing, whatever that stuff is afterwards and she'll never notice." Josh suggested.

"She'd wonder why I'd been using mouthwash, I'm not that bothered, honestly." Which was the truth. He wasn't entirely sure he was recovered from the last time he had been drunk.

"What time do you have to be back for?" Asked Steve.

"Nine. So I'll have to call for my lift promptly at a quarter to, she'll be watching the clock."

"Shit, I don't know how you put up with it. I'd go crazy in a week."

"One day I'll escape."

Josh picked that time to hit him with the question Damon had been waiting for. "So you going to make Tuesday evening?"

"She hasn't said no yet, but, I don't know. I want to make it. We'll see." It was Josh's birthday, his mother wouldn't like him going, but he couldn't see her objecting directly.

"Meanwhile, what are we watching?" Josh accepted the answer was as good as he was going to get, and figured it safest to steer the conversation away from dwelling on Damon's problem parents.

Steve checked out the cover. "'Hairy Plodger II – The Sex Nymphs of Nudie Island', do we need to know what happened in 'Hairy Plodger I – The Stoned Sorceress' to understand it, or do they do a recap of essential plot elements?"

"How do you get this stuff? This is seriously hard core." Josh had grabbed the box and was acting like he was trying not to drool.

"Nick Smart." Damon answered, trying not to sound like he was bragging.

Josh stopped staring at the box and looked straight at Damon. "No fucking way, he's like the coolest guy in school. Those guys never talk to people like us."

"They do when you tell sheep shagging jokes to wind up old Mrs Battleaxe."

"So I heard. In fact just about everyone at school heard about you doing that. Wish I'd been there. Fucking sweet."

Fucking sweet it might have been, but Damon had still been completely taken off guard on the Friday when Nick had approached him to give him the 'Hairy Plodger II' disc. Although it shouldn't have surprised him, he'd already worked out that Nick was very much someone who absolutely and completely kept the promises he made. Even promises made to geeks.

"Come on, quit the crap, start the movie. You got the remote control Damon?" Steve was impatient.

"Yeah, hold on." He pointed the remote control at the video, but didn't use it. The novelty of being able to set the video recorder going without using the remote hadn't worn off yet. He went through the motions so as not to arouse suspicion. It was a trick he'd been playing with ever since he'd done the presentation earlier in the week. At first he'd assumed that the remote control had been flaky and had just started working again, but as the presentation had gone on he had reassured himself it genuinely was totally dead. But somehow he hadn't needed it, he could make the laptop change pages just by concentrating on it. Afterwards he'd worked out he could do the same thing with a whole bunch of electronic devices. If he used a remote control it was like he could sense the signal it sent, and somehow he could copy it, he figured kind of like some people could hear a bird call and copy that. He didn't really understand how, but then his specialty was bio-genetics, not electronics. It was a great trick though.

Great trick, but, he conceded, on the scale of things it was not nearly as miraculous a feat as convincing Nick to give him a porn movie like that. A few weeks ago he would have believed that was an impossibility. A lot of things had changed in the last few weeks, more than he could have hoped or imagined. Well, in some respects; what he really needed was for his miserable life at home to improve as much as the rest of his life had. Some hope there, he considered sarcastically.

But, this was supposed to be his escape from all that. He had to try and chill out a little bit more. Not that he was really that interested in watching the movie right now, but anything was better than spending another night in at home. Things had always been pretty tense there, but now with the scare stories about kids going missing, it was all starting to get a little on the unbearable side. Sure, he tried to remind himself he would escape one day. But right now that day seemed a long, long way off. In the short term what he really wanted was the time to try and think up excuses to get out of going clothes shopping with his mother the following afternoon. He hadn't been very successful at that in the past, his mother could see through most of his excuses, and seemed to think he absolutely needed to be there to decide what clothes he wanted, even though he was very seldom able to sway her approval or disapproval of anything, and he usually ended up with her choice and not his own. Which was another reason he was struggling with a bit of a geek image, on top of everything else he dressed like a twat. But then 'Hairy Plodger II' started, and he quickly gave up trying.

* * *

By Sunday evening Damon Jackson was not in the best of moods. Wasn't Sunday supposed to be a day of rest? Some bleeding chance. Other than another infinitely embarrassing experience having his mother buying his underwear for him in the store that afternoon, he had been buried under homework, more homework and even more homework. On top of that his mother was now complaining that his room was in a mess and that if he didn't tidy it, she would. Her idea of tidying involved disposing of anything that was left in open view that wasn't clothing, school work, or firmly fixed down. He didn't much fancy the idea of her coming in during the day while he was at school and going through his cupboards and drawers. He suspected she did it anyway, but she would never pass up the chance to be a lot more thorough. Not that she could find anything that would incriminate him in her eyes, he was too cautious to risk leaving anything where she could possibly get at it. He just resented the violation of privacy.

Homework had to be his first priority though, however much he was finding it difficult to concentrate on that. He was pretty sure he could finish that and still have time to get the room tidied by ten, by which time he was expected to be safely in bed. No, his problem wasn't getting the work done in time, his problem was that he had nothing of the weekend left for himself by the time he had gotten all the work done. Between work and school he felt squeezed out of any opportunity to have any life of his own. Which, he conceded, was probably a good part of his mother's intention.

So. Biology homework. He smiled. That had been one of his minor victories. His mother didn't approve of the science of biology in the slightest, had some quite fundamental differences with the way it was taught at school. Ironic it should turn out to be his best subject. So when it had looked like she was going to get awkward about him pursuing that direction it had been fairly easy for him to encourage the school to write her a letter saying how impressed they had been with Damon's academic potential and how much encouraging him along this path would give him a head start on his future university career, not to mention that it would also make the school look good. He had thought it was pretty funny, watching her try to reconcile her general distrust of science with her pushiness to guide him to greatness. Damon had turned it into a confrontation between her and the school, it had been an interesting battle to watch unfold, and ultimately the school had won.

It was sad, but sometimes he felt like he lived for such minor victories.

He managed to get the homework done, and the room tidied by a little after nine, which gave him a whole hour to himself. His only problem there was, he couldn't much think of anything he could do with it..

* * *

Damon awoke early the following morning. He had to be at school early, so he couldn't get a lift from his dad. He had a twenty minute ride on the train to look forward to, but first he had to finish breakfast. His mother was up and about long before him, she wouldn't let him leave the house until he had a decent meal inside him and she was sure he had enough money and had been given her standard speech on what he should and shouldn't do while he was out and that drugs were evil and he should look both ways before crossing any road.

He took it as he had every other time he had left the house without her. Fifteen years and any reasonable parent might have thought he would have got the message. His mother wasn't dictatorial, just over-cautious. He could cope. He was kind of surprised she was allowing him out alone. Although the trains were probably safe she must have thought. There had been some newspaper campaign, somebody please think about the children, they had succeeded getting security police on all the school trains. It was all bullshit, it wouldn't help, none of the abductions had taken place anywhere near any trains, but it gave his mother some false sense of security, which made his life marginally more tolerable.

Her parting words had come close to pushing him over the edge into anger though. With a killer on the loose she really didn't think that Josh should be going ahead with his birthday party, but that they could discuss that when Damon got home from school that night. Right. She'd decided he wasn't going to the party then. She would never say that directly of course, it would just be a recommendation, it would just be good advice. And then when Tuesday came there would be some other plan made for the evening, and if he had the temerity to remember the party, she would tell him that she thought they'd all agreed he wasn't going. Then if he pushed the point she would say it was unacceptable for him to agree not to go and then think he could back out of the agreement. If he attempted to claim he had never made any agreement like that in the first place, well then she would demand to know if he was accusing her of lying. He wasn't going to win. He'd been through this too many times before to hold onto any delusions that he might be able to convince her to change her mind. All he could do was to bite his tongue, and depart quickly.

He made his way furiously to the station, the trains ran every ten minutes, he wouldn't have long to wait. Once on the train he could try and relax, escape, try and work through his anger. At least he had thought he would be able to, the plan didn't work all that well. He was heading to school, it didn't feel much like an escape. Truth was, it was just leaving one oppressive regime for another.

* * *

"You, little boy, look miserable."

Damon stopped in his tracks. That was the third time in a week Nick had spoken to him at school. Even if he had managed to make sympathy sound patronizing. "Do you have to call me 'little boy'?"

"Yes. Because it's funny."

"But I thought you said I wasn't exactly little."

"That's why it's funny."

Nick's voice had pulled Damon back to reality though, and that was definitely a good thing. Lunch was just about over, he had lessons to go to. Most of the lunchtime he had been trying to work though, to plan what he could say that might get him to the birthday party after all, but then his mind had started wandering. Really, seriously, literally wandering. It was like, he would blink, and he would be somewhere else, blink and he was back home. And this was not the first time that it had happened. Might have been fun if he had any control over it, but the places he wound up seemed odd, places that were not that interesting really. And this time a place that had been more than a little freaky.

This time it had been an abandoned building site, or demolition site, something like that. And someone, a boy, pretty much the same age as Damon had been stood there, freezing cold, he was only wearing underwear. Damon figured the guy would have frozen to death already if he hadn't been quite so insulated by being somewhat overweight. The kid was also terrified, beyond terrified, there was a man there, a man wearing a balaclava that obscured his face, a man pointing a gun at him. The gun wasn't a big gun, it didn't need to be, it could still kill someone when it went bang. The kid was very well aware of this, and very confused, he had no clue if he was going to live or die. The man had gestured at him to run, and the kid had not hesitated to start running, like he'd learnt this maniac wasn't to be debated with. And now the boy was running. Running hard, terrified. Running for his life.

Damon could see it all as clearly as if he was standing there. Standing right beside the kid. Which didn't quite make sense on account of Damon was stationary and the kid was running. He tried calling out, but the kid didn't act like he could see him, in fact the kid had ignored him completely, like he wasn't there. Which, in fairness, he wasn't. Anyway, the kid was too distracted, too focussed on running to have responded even if he could have heard Damon's shouting.

The kid was too unfit to be able to run very fast, and then he stopped and turned abruptly, in a fragment of a second before the trigger was pulled. And then, well, Damon didn't know what had happened after that. He'd blinked again, and he'd been back at school. Still at his boring as shit school. Just daydreaming. Weird as fuck daydreams though. More like waking nightmares.

Magical visionary experiences to add to the magical stuff he could do with remote controls, and to the magical way that cool kids were actually talking to him now. All three were things that would make his mother absolutely freak. Which would have been cool, but the problem was that she was already so totally freaked by the media frenzy over the disappearing kids that his life was starting to feel impossible. And maybe that was what this was all about, the visions were just a paranoid manifestation of his sublimated fear over getting abducted, juxtaposed with his ongoing battle with his mother to stop her totally controlling his life. And that was really what was bothering him. Try as he might to forget, his thoughts were continually returning to the problem with the party.

And now Nick was trying to talk to him about it.

"The abductions, making my already miserable life worse. Hey, thanks for the discs. It was, well, educational." Damon answered, trying not to snigger. Then, abruptly he sensed frustration. A pent up anger and a frustration. For a moment, and then gone. Had that been from Nick? It had been gone so quickly it was hard to tell.

"No problem little boy! Education is good." Whatever he might have been feeling a moment earlier, Nick managed to make a joke of it. "Just let me know if you want to get your hands on any more."

"I would but, not exactly easy right now. With everything going on, hard to have time when I won't get caught."

"Uncool parents?"

"Seriously uncool. Living nightmare."

"That would kill me. A life that sheltered, no wonder you wound up a bit of a geek."

"Right. And I was finally starting to get my act together, get invited to a party, even if it was a geek party, and she isn't going to let me go." Damon tried to summarize his frustrations. Usually people didn't care, didn't want to hear. He really couldn't work out why Nick was listening, but Damon very much appreciated the opportunity to vent anyway.

Nick grinned, an infectious grin that actually made Damon feel better in an inexplicably weird kind of way. Like, it was as if Nick had a plan. "You really have a problem with them, I sympathize. You ever think of killing them?"

Damon smiled at the joke. At least he hoped it was a joke. He was starting to notice that Nick could be very difficult to read at times, and right now he definitely gave the impression that he had some kind of nefarious scheme brewing. Much as his parents frustrated the crap out of him, Damon didn't really want them dead.

* * *

The day had ended and Damon had headed for the train home. He spent much of the train journey rehearsing what he was going to say to try and rescue what was left of his chances of getting to the party. Thankfully he had arrived home to find his mother busy, so he had been able to retire to his bedroom to make an early start on his homework. That kind of conscientious behavior maybe might work to his advantage. Luckily making it look like he was doing homework didn't actually require him to actually do any homework. Good because as much as he tried to focus, his mind had kept on jumping tracks.

For the second time that day he had found himself having weird visions. This time he had been in some grotty closet as far as he could tell. Some guy called Jake flat on his arse on the floor, looking stoned out of his head. There was something really familiar about the face, but he couldn't place it. He had asked the guy if he was okay, he hadn't got any response, and then blinked, and then he wasn't there any more. In a closet with another guy, old Sigmund Freud would have a fucking field day with that one.

The experience interested him from a scientific point of view. His options, he figured, were that it was delusional, or paranormal. He wasn't about to write himself off as delusional, so he was hoping for a paranormal explanation. There were a set of facts that clearly needed an explanation, but that had no explanation within the realms of his understanding of conventional neuropsychology. His scientific side kicked in at this point, he had to start with a hypothesis, see if he could test it, work towards a theory.

Testing it, that part should be easy. He was looking for elements of the vision that he could connect with real events, real situations, real times, real places. Anything he could identify within what he was seeing that he could not only verify independently, but also establish that there was no way he could have had any kind of prior knowledge about. Of course, that then depended on what the nature of the visions was. His favored option was that it could be astral projection, if not then maybe some kind of clairvoyance, perhaps a premonition.

Damon tried not to dwell on the consideration that if there really was some reality to the visions, then he had to conclude he might have actually witnessed a genuine gangland style execution a few hours earlier. Definitely not something that he wanted to think too closely about.

So, the paranormal, pretty wild as any hypothesis went. Mainstream science took very little of this seriously, and with good reason, despite all the many hypotheses, none of them had managed to stand up to even the most basic level of testing. Generally every paranormal hypothesis failed miserably when they tried to reproduce it in the lab. It didn't mean parapsychology was wrong, just that no one understood it yet. Parapsychology remained more a matter of belief than of theory at this point.

Damon was certainly interested in parapsychology, although he half considered that was just an act of rebellion. His mother wouldn't have approved, she had pretty old fashioned attitudes and would have lumped all parapsychology with witchcraft and the occult, and would have forbidden him absolutely from getting involved. She would have been certain that he would end up participating in satanic rituals and bizarre sexual acts, and no amount of rational explanation on his part would have swayed her opinion. Damon smiled to himself, bizarre sexual acts, actually made the occult sound way more fun than it probably was in reality.

One thing he was pretty sure of though, if she had ever found out about the visions she would probably have concluded that he was possessed and then would likely have tried to have him exorcised. He hadn't told her anything, he wasn't that stupid. He didn't feel bad, it wasn't like he was lying, there was a vast difference between simply hiding the truth and lying. She would be furious if she found out though. She wouldn't understand. She wouldn't listen. She never listened.

* * *

Damon had headed down for dinner, then sat through half the meal waiting for his mother to pass judgment on his plans to go to the party. She had remained silent on that topic, and the conversation had been subdued. They had just gotten to discussing his homework plans for the evening.

"I have biology and maths tonight. But I need to get my Chemistry done as well so I can still go to Josh's birthday tomorrow." Damon was biting his tongue. This was red rag to a bull, and was going to result in disaster, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer, he had to confront the problem.

"Oh, I thought we'd agreed it wasn't a good idea for you to go to that party. Anyway, you seem to have forgotten you have other commitments that evening, and I think it would be more than a little unreasonable for you to break those commitments just to go to a party you had already rightly concluded might not be safe in the current climate."

Jake tried not to feel good that he had been able to predict her response so accurately. He wondered if she was aware just how transparently passive aggressive she was. So he had other plans, did he? Odd how he had no clue at all what those other plans were. He decided to play along with the charade. "Other plans? I really did totally forget. I mustn't have written them on my wall planner. Just as well you remembered. What do I have planned?" He tried desperately not to sound snarky, she wouldn't appreciate that and he was in enough trouble already.

"Really Damon, you need to organize yourself a lot better if you wish to have any hope of making anything of your life. When you make plans you must write them down. It is just as well your friend Nicholas Smart called me to remind you about your special biology study group tomorrow night. Now there at least is a young man with his head screwed on right, having the sense to call to confirm the arrangements."

Damon tried to keep a blank face. What the fuck was going on? What the fuck was Nick up to? What the actual fuck was he meant to say to his mother now? His plans had entirely been based on a conversation that was nothing like the one that was now taking place. "Oh, the biology study group. With Nick. Yes. That's on Tuesday evening?"

"Well, really, Damon, I think you should know the answer to that. I really am quite disappointed with your level of organization here. I mean, I'm very pleased that you have taken the initiative to get involved with this study group, but when I look at how badly you manage to mess up your arrangements even when you do the right thing, really Damon, sometimes I despair."

"I will try to do better, I promise."

"So, none of this going to the party nonsense?"

Damon hesitated before answering. He didn't want his mother to think that the victory had been too easy. "I can't do both, and I suppose I agreed to the study night first. I would really like to have gone to the party, and I do think it would have been perfectly safe, but, obviously that is academic. Because I'm going to the study night." He tried to make the concession sound reluctant, and was pleased with himself for pointing out that he thought she was wrong about the level of danger. Telling her she was wrong was usually insanely dangerous, but he could get away with it when he was giving in and letting her get her way.

He could sense her feeling smug. That meant she was convinced she had won totally, that he had backed down completely, and that order was restored. Damon finished eating then headed to go do the rest of his homework. He was also desperately curious to find out what Nick was up to. Damon had his suspicions, but if that really was Nick's plan, it was pretty outrageous.

* * *

A cool kid could condescend to talk to a geek, it was a whole different thing for a sad geek to approach a cool kid. Damon knew his only hope was to try and catch Nick when no one else was around. That was proving to be way more difficult than he had anticipated.

His mother had been almost tolerable at breakfast that morning. She always seemed to overdo the facade of being reasonable right after she won a battle with him. To Damon it felt like she was rubbing his face in it, although he knew she was genuinely trying not to upset him any further than she needed to... it was bizarrely magnanimous of her in a twisted kind of way. Damon was sure that from her point of view it felt like she was doing the right thing, she was protecting him from his own bad judgement. And that was his problem, there was no way of challenging her opinion of what made for bad judgement on his part, she just had no concept of compromise.

Except this time he hadn't lost. Well, at least he didn't think he had. He'd spent half the evening trying to get his head around what was going on, but what he really needed was to talk to Nick. And soon, he didn't exactly have a large amount of time to spare, it was Tuesday morning now and the party was only a matter of hours away. So while he should have waited for Nick to come to him, he had decided the had to go see Nick. Unfortunately Nick wasn't alone, and Damon was trying to work out what on earth he could do next. He stood quietly in the distance trying not to look too conspicuous. He would have to wait until Nick was free, and hope that happened before they had to head to class registration.

In the event Nick made it easy for him. "There you are little boy. I wondered how long it would take you to show up."

Damon had been taken aback. Nick hadn't waited until the people he was with had gone. Nick was talking to a geek in front of other cool kids. "I got the message and..." he managed to stammer out nervously.

"And you're wondering what the fuck is going on?"

"Er, yes."

"Well, Cinderella, I'm your fucking fairy godfather. And I decided you shall go to the party."

* * *

Damon headed to the first lesson of the day feeling incredible. Pumped, happier than he could remember having been, maybe ever. Not that he was getting to the party, but that he was finally pulling one over on his mother.

It wasn't perfect, he would get dropped at Nick's place by 6:00 PM, then have to get over to Josh's, and he would have to leave the party no later than the stroke of 10:45 PM in order to get back to Nick's in time to be picked up by his parents. Late wasn't an option, and the consequences would be far worse than turning into a pumpkin. But that didn't matter. His mother had said no, and he was going to the party anyway. Life didn't get any better than this.

Okay, Damon conceded, it was a pretty sad life that this should be the pinnacle of his existence. He still wouldn't be able to drink much at the party, but he would at least be able to drink something, Nick had even thought of that. The story was that they were eating strong curried snacks to keep them going while they studied, that would explain the smell of mouthwash on his breath. He was totally looking forward to the party.

He wasn't exactly sure what he had done this time to warrant getting helped out by Nick again. He half freaked out wondering if Nick was secretly gay and had some kind of crush on him... but, no, if that had been the case he figured he would have spotted something had been up when he had shared the room with Nick at the Institute conference. He'd noticed a lot of things about Nick, and that was not one of them. But that left the puzzle. He couldn't help feeling that sooner or later there was going to be some kind of price to pay. But, for now, he was happy. Honestly, to win one over his mother like that, he was pretty much okay whatever the price turned out to be, even if it had turned out to be something freaky, it was worth it.

His victorious thoughts were not even tempered as the teacher arrived and the lesson started. He was sure he spent the entire lesson grinning inappropriately.

* * *

Damon was sitting alone for lunch. He often did. It wasn't that he couldn't go sit with Steve and Josh and the other misfits, they would accept him, and no one would think less of him for sitting with them. He didn't have a problem hanging out with them, he just liked to eat lunch on his own, it was the one opportunity he had in the day to get lost in his own thoughts and not have to worry about other people.

That was the theory anyway. All he had wanted to do today was sit in smug happiness, enjoying his moment of triumph. That was not what seemed to be happening. His pasta salad had been abruptly interrupted by a momentary chill. Damon had blinked and glanced around. If this was a vision, it was kind of half-arsed. Doorknob, hand, doorknob. What kind of stupid was going on here? It was lunchtime, he was sat in the middle of the school canteen, and he seemed to be... in the closet again. He was having a vision about coming out of a closet. That was just wrong. Thankfully he was sitting alone. and thankfully all the other people in the school canteen were ignoring him, it wasn't really the ideal place to be having an out of body experience.

Maybe that was it, maybe that was his subconscious fighting, why the vision only felt half there. Stairs. Jake. Jake again. The guy in the closet. He called out to him, kind of pointless, no one ever responded in his visions when he tried to talk to them. The guy was spinning around. Disembodied heads seemed to hover around him. Something was wrong, this was no normal vision. Right, like any vision was exactly normal, but this was seriously not normal.

There was an enormous lake. A small lake, okay, maybe just a small pond. Gates, park gates maybe. The guy was frenzied, out of control. This, Damon contemplated, seemed to be a common theme in the visions. He could see a house, a pub, it was a pub, the Pheasant Plucker's arms. Bloody silly name for a pub, but distinctive, an internet search shouldn't turn up too many pubs with that name, that was exactly the kind of detail he was looking for. But most of the other images were too confusing, Damon tried to focus, tried to...

The vision broke into reality. This was more like it. A single coherent scene. He had some real chance of being able to gather details he could use to verify the vision now. The pond was just a puddle, a puddle by the school gate. The pub was on the other side of the road. Jake was pushing past people towards the gate. Pushing past them like he couldn't see.

'Jake.' Damon tried calling out to him again. The guy seemed really panicked about something. Damon couldn't work out if the distorted nature of what he was seeing was part of the reason for the panic, or if the vision was getting garbled because of the panic. He was running from something, desperately running from something.

The guy was more than just panicked. He was stumbling into people, it wasn't just because he wasn't looking, he really couldn't see them, the guy was, his mind was broken. He was stumbling towards the road, but he couldn't see the road, couldn't see the cars. Couldn't see the cars. Shit, he couldn't see the car headed right for him.

'Jake. Get out the fucking road you idiot' Damon tried shouting in his mind. It was no good, people in the visions could never hear him. Nothing he could say was going to help, he just had to look on and watch in horror.

Jake turned, apparently entirely oblivious to the fact there was a car headed straight for him, he turned and looked back. Damon looked into the blank face looking back at him. Puzzlement, he could sense puzzlement. It was like Jake really could see him. Jake was trying to work out where he recognized Damon's face from. Holy shit, this wasn't just a vision, this was real. Jake really could see him. Damon felt his momentary elation sinking fast, if Jake could see him, why couldn't he hear. Why the fuck wasn't he listening?

'For God's sake get out of the fucking road.' Damon screamed again in desperation. He had never felt so helpless in his life, watching the car break hard and desperately try to swerve. Damon tried to dive forwards, reach out, pull the stupid fucker out of the way. Except he couldn't, because he wasn't really there.

'No.' The guy was trying to turn, the bloody obvious must finally have occurred to him and he was trying to get out of the way of the oncoming car. But he didn't know which direction the vehicle was coming from, and now in his confusion he had stumbled to where he was even more directly in the path of the car. But then just as the guy seemed like he was aware that he had made a mistake, it was too late.

Damon blinked, he was sat in the school canteen. Life was going on around him as if nothing had happened. How could they all be so cold about it? He sat, tried to control his breathing, tried to conceal his own shock and trauma. He just wanted to get away. Escape the cold darkness, escape the emptiness. But he had nowhere to go, he was back where he belonged, safe. And Jake was gone.

* * *

**5: Happy Drugs**

* * *

Jake turned his head on the pillow and blinked a few times. He could see. The headache had passed, he felt better. Well, physically he felt like he had been through the proverbial hedge backwards, but his head was clear. No voices either. Alright, there was one, but it was a real one. Someone sitting by the bed, talking to him. At least he assumed they were talking to him. There didn't seem to be anyone else around to be talking to.

Where was he? It looked like a hospital bed. It looked exactly like the hospital room he'd woken up in briefly after the car had hit him. Had he been hit by a car? Or had it all been a dream? Had he blacked out again, had he imagined it all? Safest for his sake to let them do the talking, it would avoid all sorts of awkward questions. It wasn't bad though, this hospital, he could smell fresh lemons, and the sheets were beautifully clean. He also noted that he was hungry, but didn't feel particularly weak. He appeared to be hooked up to some kind of drip, that implied to him that his condition had been considered fairly serious at some point.

"Hi," he smiled weakly. "Did I survive?"

"Just about. Welcome back to the land of the living. Hold on, I'll call the doctor."

Jake watched a moment while she spoke to the disembodied voice on the other end of the call. It was considered normal to hear disembodied voices on telephones, he contemplated, hearing them without telephones was not quite so normal. But, that wasn't a problem right now. He looked up at the ceiling and cleared his mind. He felt almost too calm, it didn't seem right.

The doctor didn't take long to arrive. He imagined his parents would be in some waiting room, and that was even before he had to deal with school, probably the police. But it was the doctor he had to convince, the Doctor that would help him spin a story that would satisfy all of them.

"Hello Jacob. How do you feel?"

"Exhausted, all in one piece. I suppose that's some consolation."

"Consolation? The car managed to swerve, but it still hit you at some speed. In my humble medical opinion, after a cranial impact like that, you shouldn't really still be capable of using words like that with three syllables. That is how serious this was. You escaped, it seems, almost unscathed both physically and mentally. You were more than lucky, you'd almost have me believing in miracles if I wasn't such an old cynic. So, tell me what you remember."

Serious, yeah right. Jake tried to refrain from smirking. This was the part he'd been waiting for since he'd woken up, his opportunity to perform. "Lunchtime was over, it was physics next lesson. I remember grabbing my books. I had a headache, and didn't really feel up to the lesson. I was going to go and apologize. I got out into the yard, and I couldn't see. Between leaving the common room and getting to the yard it just became more and more difficult to see. I thought I was going blind. I guess I panicked. Ran. I don't remember much else. Then I woke up here, the nurse called you, and that's it." It sounded so simple, so clean, so sanitary. The doctor would have to come up with some explanation for it.

"You said you could see less and less. Describe it, in detail if you can."

He smiled inwardly to himself. The had asked him for detail, he could give it to them; selectively. He explained how the door handle had vanished. The gradual loss of vision until he could no longer see. Everything, except for the fact that after loosing his sight completely he had seen the weird geek staring back at him. He didn't mention the voice calling out to him either. He decided he would rather hold that one back as well, at least for now.

"Has anything like this ever happened before?"

"No, never." Well, strictly speaking that was questionable. But he didn't want the diagnosis clouded by something that might not have been relevant.

"And you had a headache at the time?"

"Yes. You think the two things could be connected?" He knew the answer was yes, his question was directed to try and find out what the doctor was thinking.

"Sounds to me like an attack of migraine. It really could scare you, being the first time. You've had problems with headaches recently?"

"A bit, yes." Absolute truth.

"Concentration problems as well, I have some hearing test results here, and I think you played down the headaches at the time. So nobody realized just how serious it was. "

"I didn't think they were important." At the time they hadn't been, it had been a hearing test.

"That is for your doctor to decide. You could have been killed in that accident. So. Do you have a headache right now?"

"No. Just tired." More truth.

"Right. Well you are not going back to school until at least the week after next, and when you do go back, we will be keeping a check on you from time to time. I know it's good for a dedicated student to work hard, but there is such a thing as working too hard. In your case exacerbated by what seems to be a slight chemical imbalance in your neurology, makes you prone to scrambled signals in the brain, and that is likely what is causing the migraine. So I'm also going to prescribe you a migraine suppressant, we'll start with sodium valproate, take one a day. We'll monitor you on that, if that isn't helping we can switch to a tricyclic anti-depressant or a beta-blocker. Just know there are alternatives, and our job is to work out what works best for you."

"Yes." Was is really as simple as that?

"You know what day it is?"

This was more like the kind of questions he had been expecting, see if he was sane. "Tuesday."

"It's Thursday today."

He didn't need to fake the surprise, "You mean I've been unconscious for two days. No wonder I feel hungry, when do I get to eat?"

"Thursday the 18th."

Holy shit. He'd been unconscious for sixteen days. No one was joking. This was all seriously serious. He started to regret playing mind games with the doctor. Jake Laris feeling regret? Well, maybe that was okay. No headaches, no voices. Maybe having to deal with having a newly found conscience wasn't so bad a trade.

"Right now you need rest. I'll let your parents see you for a short time, you can have something to eat in a few hours, once we know it's safe. Otherwise have yourself a good nights sleep, and we can think about letting you home in the morning.

* * *

He got away with it. His mother had been all I-told-you-so, and saying that he would have a week of lying in, breakfast in bed, he figured that could get enjoyably addictive. It should have been a gift, a gratuitous extra week of sloth, but he'd managed to spend the whole half term holiday in a coma, so in some ways it felt like little more than a compensation for losing that. Plus, the lost time wasn't going to help with his revision for exams, he would only have a week back at school before those started. But, he figured, there he would have to be allowed some leeway, and it wasn't exactly like these were critical exams or anything, just regular school end of year exams.

The school for its part had somehow felt that it was partly to blame and Vader had sent a really groveling letter. They hoped he would make a full recovery and were looking forward to seeing him when he returned. Of course, in their eyes he was still the model pupil. One who tried too hard.

Jake could hardly believe it, even he couldn't work out exactly how he had managed to talk his way out of this one. Maybe the doctor had been right, maybe it had just all been overwork. Was he really falling for the doctor's explanation? The doctor's diagnosis certainly appeared to have been right, and the treatment was working. Right now there were no headaches, and more importantly no voices either. Kind of rude of them to piss off without saying goodbye, but he wasn't going to get worked up about that. A slight chemical imbalance in his neurology, could that really have been all it was?

He recovered his strength within a few days. By the end of the weekend he was feeling better, much better than he had been ever since the hangover that had started it all. His moment of weirdness finally over. The next week passed equally peacefully, no trouble, no cares. His mother was being so conscientious about not getting him stressed that she hadn't even made a big fuss on the Wednesday when another disappearance had been announced. It really was uninterrupted relaxation. By the end of it he found himself starting to get so bored that he was almost looking forward to school. And in his opinion that feeling couldn't be good for him.

* * *

He left the house on Monday morning relieved in a way, he wanted it to be the end of the matter. Time to forget his problems and get back to reality. He suspected that his desire might be nothing more than wishful thinking. For a start the change of routine had thrown him off and he had nearly forgotten to take his medication that morning. It wasn't a big deal, but it was a reminder that things could never go back exactly as they were.

He turned the corner and continued down the street to the bus stop. It was the first time he had been out alone in over three weeks. It felt strange to be out, somehow beautiful, a solitary contemplation of the world around him. The cold snap was well and truly over, this felt much more like a normal June day. He sat on the bench in the bus shelter, enjoying the sunshine. Enjoying the five minute wait, or however long it turned out to be, it was as ever impossible to rely on the buses. But that gave him time to think, time to reflect.

He kept one hand on the strap of his bag by his feet and watched diligently for the first sign of the bus coming. Sometimes it went straight past if he didn't notice it coming, he needed to be ready to make a move.

His eyes tended to wander though, as always. He only watched for the bus most of the time, in other moments he found himself looking across the street at the bus stop on the other side, watching the figures waiting there. He recognized most of them. Over six years he had watched people coming and going, the regulars, he had never met them, but had always felt like he somehow knew them. All familiar faces today. Odd though, they did seem much more distant than he remembered.

But, in the scheme of things, not a big deal. The bus arrived and he boarded it.

* * *

He arrived at school to find himself being treated as something of a celebrity. Not necessarily for the best of reasons. The incident had been well reported, even made the local papers. The status was enjoyable for a time, but he was glad to make his retreat to the store room. He descended the stairs and hesitated as he reached the door. He didn't exactly have pleasant memories of the last time he had been in there. He knocked three times just in case; it shouldn't matter, he was normally first in in the mornings, then shoved his key in the lock and tried to turn it.

It wouldn't budge.

He pulled the key out, cursed silently and tried again. Still no luck. He removed it and considered. After what had happened had they been found out? Mike and Dean hadn't mentioned anything, he had seen them more than once in the past week. It made no sense.

Whatever the explanation, the key was useless. Angrily he thumped the lock.

"Chill, don't stress, you'll have the men in white coats here to cart you off to the funny farm again."

His solitary contemplation was interrupted by the gratuitously grinning face of Mike peering round the corner.

"Very original. I take it you had to change the lock as a result of me going apeshit."

"No."

Mike pushed him to the side and pulled out his own key. The door swung open. Mike stepped aside and gestured a mock welcome. Jake entered a room pretty much unchanged from how it had been four weeks earlier. Four weeks, it hadn't really occurred to him just how long he'd been gone, although, being unconscious most of that time kind of distorted his view.

He switched on the fan heater, used for blowing cool air this time, it was kind of muggy and humid down there at this time of year. Jake increased the volume on the radio to counteract its monotonous hum.

"See that key?" Mike asked as he followed him in.

Jake tossed the key over then put his bag down on the chair and pulled it open to check his books for the day.

"This isn't the key, the pattern is totally wrong."

"Same key I always used."

"No way. Check it out."

Jake took both keys, ready to launch into his defense. Only the keys were totally different. No way he could deny it.

"Huh weird. So how did I never have a problem getting in before?"

"You sure you didn't just confuse the keys when you went loco?"

Jake stopped. Truth was he couldn't be sure. Time to cut his losses, let it go. "I need to borrow that, get a copy."

"No problem." Mike hesitated. "Hey, you okay about all that? I don't mean to wind you up about the crazy thing, not if you got a problem with it."

"What? Not really. I guess." He looked across at Mike, unsure what the guy was getting at. Somehow it didn't help, his eyes were blank, not giving anything away today. "I'm okay now. I can deal."

"Cool. Don't want you killing yourself."

Jake kept looking at him, but he couldn't see what Mike meant. There was just silence. He gave up, puzzled. Not worth it, let it go. More important things to think about, time to face the day. He would be having a reasonably light workload for the week, even with exams looming over him the teachers had finally been forced to accept that he didn't really need to do as much work as everyone else. Really they should have been able to work that out for themselves a long time ago, but, Jake figured, maybe that was expecting too much of them.

* * *

One physics and one chemistry lesson later he was happy to observe that the teachers were indeed keeping to their promise. Both Price and Fiedler had been very reserved, scaling back their normally quite pushy expectations of him. Jake could see this was going to work out very well for him. Very well indeed.

Kath finally caught up with him on the way out to lunch. She hadn't managed to make it to see him, since he'd regained consciousness. She'd apparently turned up a couple of times when he was in the coma, but obviously he didn't remember any of that. Then she'd had issues of her own the week after that with her grandfather being rushed into hospital. For a time that hadn't looked hopeful, and she had been sitting there with him most evenings. For now his condition had stabilized, but Kath was still looking pretty tired and upset. Dean had passed on her apologies for not making it to see Jake at all.

"You had a lot of people worried." She stated, sounding somewhat subdued still.

"I had me worried too. Well, apart from when I was in the coma. Didn't worry much then." He tried to lighten the mood.

"Make a joke of anything."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just easier than thinking about what might have been. I didn't mean to upset anyone."

"Is this Jake Laris being honest, Jake Laris sharing his feelings?"

"Don't tell anyone, I"d never live it down." He grinned.

"You coming to lunch, me and Dean were skipping the canteen, headed to the mall."

"Yeah. You and Dean? Lunch? No shotguns involved? Did I miss something while I was unconscious?"

"You were only gone a matter of two or three weeks. Let me point out it would take Dean a lot more than a few weeks to get a clue."

"Fair point."

"He's just, been pretty supportive. His gran died last year, so I guess he had some clue what I was going through."

"How's your granddad doing?"

"Out of intensive care. They think he'll make it. Oh, he won't be able to go climbing trees any more, but honestly, he's in his eighties, I don't get why he was out climbing trees anyway."

"Because he could? I still want to be climbing trees when I'm his age."

"You don't climb trees, you're terrified of heights."

"You always have to complicate poetic metaphor with cold technicality, don't you."

"And the rate you're going with throwing yourself in front of moving cars, there isn't much chance of you making it to eighty anyway."

Jake smiled at her reply, it was sarcastic humor, but it was at least humor. The mood had been successfully lightened.

* * *

Dean finally turned up about five minutes late. Some story about being held back after the lesson because he'd been in trouble for talking back to the teacher. As excuses went it sounded like it was bordering on the ridiculous. Oddly Jake couldn't work out if Dean was telling the truth or not.

Anyway, they had finally managed to sneak out of school to head to the mall. It was ridiculous, having to sneak out for lunch. School was starting to resemble a prison camp in a police state. A year earlier there wouldn't have been an issue, but now there was a serial killer on the loose. With the disappearance the week before a diktat had now been issued to the effect that no pupils were allowed off of school premises at lunchtime. So, what they were now doing, sneaking out for lunch, was a direct violation of school rules. Even that was on the daring side for Dean. Whatever Kath had been saying, Dean had definitely changed more than a little, even in just a couple of weeks. For one thing he'd always been one of the easiest to read before, and that somehow just wasn't the case any more. For another, he was also pushing a little more attitude out than before, and Jake considered that a definite improvement.

"Okay, how about that guy, down there. The one nervously fiddling with what looks disturbingly like a pocket trumpet." Dean was asking. They had wound up back at the food court again.

"What?" Jake had been distracted looking across the concourse.

"He looks, like you said, loud. Come on, what's his story?"

"Don't know."

"You okay?" Kath chimed in, acting like she was concerned, although Jake couldn't figure out why.

"Yeah, fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nothing, no reason."

What the fuck did she mean? Of course there was a reason, she wouldn't have asked if there hadn't been a reason. She never had been all that easy to read before, now she was just completely blank. He looked away, No point stressing himself out. He was meant to be happy. Back at school, everything wonderful again. And it really was great, the peacefulness, he could look out over the crowded square below and almost still feel a sense of solitude. Nothing bad about that, he'd never found it so easy to relax.

The guy with the pocket trumpet. Yeah, he did look kind of freaky. No story though. No big deal, not everyone had that focus or intensity to them. And honestly, as odd as the guy looked, Jake was pretty relieved he didn't have any particular story to tell.

Peaceful, that was it. He could get quite used to that part. And the rest, Kath, Dean and the others. Well, after what had happened it wasn't exactly surprising that they were acting a bit odd around him. They were likely as unsure about dealing with him as he was unsure about them, and this was only his first day back after all. Bound to take a little time to settle back into the routine. And, not only had he flipped out, he'd been acting weird for months, Kath had admitted that to him. It had to be pretty weird for them, having Jake acting normal again. It all made some kind of twisted sense. It was good, good that things had changed, good that they could get on with adjusting back to that.

He smiled. Fucking weird guy with the pocket trumpet. Was pretty funny. That was it. When was the last time he had really just let go and found the world around him a complete spectacle of perverse humor? He'd been so miserable he'd forgotten how to take the piss out of life. Well no problem, that failing was one he could work on.

"Now, I could tell you what he gets up to with that pocket trumpet, but really, we're in a public place, and we're eating. And you could not begin to imagine how shockingly gross it is..."

* * *

Maths had been amusing. Settling the class down Ms Hinton had been on regular form. Not even phased by his pulling his school books from his bag at the start of the lesson.

"Homework on time Mister Laris? That car finally knock some sense into you? I think a few others in this class could do with getting hit by a speeding car, help sort them out. And I am so up to volunteering to be the one driving that car. So shut up the rest of you."

He'd found the work relatively easy to focus on. He wasn't exactly sure that was supposed to be an effect of the drug he was taking, or if it was just the fact he had to concentrate because he didn't seem quite so able to wing it as he was used to. Either way, after all the frustration of the last few weeks, it was great to be able to pay attention to the lesson. Even if it did mean that he was actually having to do some work. He had noticed Ms Hinton glance across at him several times in class, he couldn't work out if she was astounded or bemused to watch him working. Either way he had to concede it was a novelty for her.

She'd stopped him momentarily on his way out of the lesson. She was smiling, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her smile at him before, that was something pretty different as well. He figured it was some kind of 'I told you so' smile, but he'd never been all that good at reading her.

"Never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I think I actually miss the way you used to wind me up." She informed him.

"Yes, Miss."

"Good to see you got yourself sorted out anyway. Not sure I think you picked the safest way to go about that, but then I never rated your common sense at the best of times."

Jake smirked, from her that was actually as close as he was ever likely to get to a compliment.

* * *

Celebrity was fleeting, and Jake found himself thankful for that truth. The unnatural interest in him had very much worn off by the end of Tuesday. By the end of the week life was back to being boring as shit. The week after that he had exams. And given how disrupted the last month had been for him, he had officially been given dispensation to totally crap them up. Not that he would, which would make the teachers even more astounded at his achievement. Brilliance in the face of adversity. Jake was happy. At long last things seemed back to normal.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**6: Humans, Being**

* * *

"Not revising, Damon?"

"I've just finished revising German, I thought I would get myself a drink of tea before I started on the Physics."

"Sensible thing to do, I imagine revising hard makes you quite thirsty. Just don't have too many cups, I'm sure that wouldn't be good for you."

"I won't. Anyway, I need an early night tonight. I have to be up early tomorrow morning to take the train to school."

"I'm starting to worry about this train idea. It was all very well last term when it was only the odd day that you were taking the train, but this is every day now. And I know they have the extra security on there, but that hasn't really helped very much so far has it. I mean, it isn't as if it's helped them catch anyone, or stop the abductions, and the murderer is still out there. Three weeks, Damon, three week it's been. People start getting complacent, letting their guard down, but mark my words, that is when they get sloppy, and that is exactly when the killer strikes again."

"I still make sure I'm as careful as I was three weeks ago."

"Of course, I know you're sensible. But you are in the middle of exams, and don't forget these are very important exams and you have to do well in them if you hope to go to university. Don't ever forget that. I just think that perhaps if we switched back to driving you to school it might might make your schedule a little more flexible and that would benefit your studies."

"It's okay, I understand dad's new job is very important to us, and that it isn't as easy for him to have the flexibility to drive me to school. Don't worry, I can find other ways to make up the study work. Which, I'd better get back to."

"Of course. I won't keep you. And thank you for understanding the sacrifice your father is making for us."

He headed for the stairs holding his breath. He still frequently felt like screaming after talking to his mother. But he had his escape planned. Two more years. Then he could rebel, and shit did he intend to rebel.

Actually, it wasn't quite so bad as all that. Things had improved drastically in the week that had passed since half term, despite the pressure of the exams he was now in the middle of. For one thing his dad had got this new job. Prestigious promotion, and his mother seemed to have taken personal credit for having pushed him into getting the promotion. That had helped ease her pressure on Damon a little.

Then there was the fact that the hysteria over the missing kids had abated a little, people just seemed to be getting a little victim fatigue. It wasn't much, but he had a tiny little more freedom than before.

He'd had his sixteenth birthday over the half term, he'd gotten a bunch of things, but the most curious was that his mother had given him money to buy clothes. He wasn't exactly sure what that meant, it seemed almost too much to hope that for the first time in his life it was looking like she was saying that he could go and freely choose what he wanted to buy rather than be forced to choose what she wanted him to buy. Sure, it had taken years, but maybe his mother was finally treating him like he was over eight years old. Not that he was going to find time to take advantage of the opportunity to go shopping until after the exams were over, or how his mother would react when he came back with something she didn't approve of, but that was something now he was actually looking forward to.

At school things had been going great. Nick still spoke to him occasionally, and it was shallow the way it made a difference, but it had improved the way he was treated generally by everyone else at school. It made school a lot more tolerable, anyway.

Most of all, his dad's new job meant he had to take the train to school every morning. And in just five days that had turned out to be the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life, ever, without exception.

* * *

He reached the relative sanctuary of his room and hunted out his history books. He had to keep up the illusion in case his mother came up to check in on him. He didn't particularly need to revise, his mother would never believe that though. He arranged the books on his desk to make it look like he was busy.

The weather outside looked enticingly good, but for Damon it was just another boring Sunday afternoon stuck indoors. Half way through the exams, and no chance he would be able to get out and enjoy any of the summer weather until then. Although, once the exams were over, then he could start making some plans. He smiled, serious plans.

He needed to stop smiling so much. If his mother walked in and saw him smiling that much about history homework even she would get worried. Damon tried to calm himself and return to his books. Right now he had something way more important to study than history. He opened his biology folder and pulled out a bunch of some printed and some hand written notes. That was another part of how he was dealing better with his life in general; he'd worked out that his school books were the one place his mother never bothered checking through. He was starting to learn he could hide pretty much anything there.

The front page had a list of scribbled items on it. Damon had started trying to write down anything and everything he could remember from the visions. The details he had managed to capture had already given him a lot of insight into what he was seeing. Well, had been seeing. The visions had unfortunately gone away, nothing since the vision of the closet guy Jake being hit by the car. That had freaked him for days, wondering if Jake had been killed in the accident and if that was the reason that the vision had stopped so abruptly. But he now knew Jake was very much still alive.

The pub, 'The Pheasant Plucker's Arms' had been the key to working it all out. It wasn't just an unusual pub name, it was almost unique. He'd quickly found only a couple referenced on the internet and only one of those near enough to a school to be the one in his last vision. He really hadn't expected it to be that easy to locate, but he had managed to find a photograph of the place, and was sure that was what he had seen. That had really helped convince him it was something paranormal rather than something delusional he was experiencing. Once he'd identified where the pub had been located, he'd been able to search the local newspapers online and had indeed found a small story about the incident. Jake hadn't been named explicitly in the article, but the details all matched exactly; the exact time, the place, the make of the car which Damon had managed to note down as well. That had also helped him to establish that the visions were of things that were happening pretty much in real time as he saw them unfold. The article had also confirmed that the schoolboy who had been hit by the car was in a bad way, but his condition was stable and he was expected to survive.

Not bad progress from just a couple of internet searches. Despite what people might think, the internet was useful for more than just pornography.

The rest of the notes on the list, though, those had him stuck much more in the dark. Some were definitely about Jake, but a significant number appeared to be about completely different people. It didn't make sense that it would be random, there was some connection between those people, there had to be. He still found himself drawn back to the list, forever hoping that each fresh viewing would unlock some pattern that he hadn't spotted before. Fear and confusion seemed to be the only common theme, he only seemed to have visions of people in situations where things were generally fucked up.

He'd wondered about doing something more to try and track Jake down. A search on the name and the locality came back with too many hits to be able to narrow anything down usefully. But Damon figured he would love to have the chance to talk to this Jake. Throughout all the visions one constant had been that he was just observing, seeing things that were happening, never actually physically connecting with the events in any way. He'd been convinced that it was like like looking through a one way mirror, that the people he saw couldn't see back. But there was no doubt in his mind that in the last moment of the last vision, just before the car had hit, Jake had been aware some that weird guy was watching him. That connection at least had to have been two way.

But today the list wasn't giving him any inspiration. Damon figured he might as well get back to his revision. Anything that would make the time pass more quickly so that he could get Sunday over with, and get to the point on Monday where he headed for the train.

* * *

Damon was torn between being keen to get the week over to be done with the exams, and not wanting to waste the precious moments he would get to spend on the train each day.

One the week was over things would be better for sure, there would still be another four weeks of school left before the summer holidays, but those would be a pretty easy four weeks. Until then he had to focus on getting through the final few exams without his mother totally stressing out. Which would be tough, as she was far more stressed than Damon was. Damon was confident he could handle the exams, and on top of that, he couldn't give a toss. He'd found out there were much more important things in life.

The train pulled in to the station. The train that was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him in his life, and that was without any exaggeration. His twelve minutes of life between the lifeless existence of home, and the mostly lifeless existence of school. And, more to the point, twelve minutes with Anna. And that alone was what made everything he had to suffer in the rest of his life so much easier to bear.

"And then my dad is like, right, but that's MY weekend. And I can't believe he'd actually mess up the shopping trip just because of that, but he'd do it just to piss my mum off, and I actually think he wouldn't remember it wasn't just about that, and that he might just piss me off as well, and then what would be the point?"

"They totally forget you're stuck in the middle at times."

"And mum is just as bad. But, at least she's like trying with this shopping trip, because that's about more than just buying things. But my dad won't see it that way, and he'll just buy me things to try and match the value of whatever I spend on the shopping trip. And I don't get it, I really don't see how on earth they ever got on long enough to get married in the first place."

"Incredible sex?"

"Not according to my mum."

"Okay, she talks to you about that?"

"Well, yes."

"I just realized my mother could actually be worse than she already is."

"That is why I like you, always ready to show me how much more your life sucks than mine."

"I try to provide a service,"

"Good. So, Damon Jackson. You been having inappropriate thoughts about me over the weekend."

"Yes, I guess." He confessed somewhat reluctantly.

"Very good. Just checking. Want a snog?"

She had a way with words. That was part of the reason he liked her so much. The rest, she made him feel normal. Something that as a sad geek he had figured was previously conspicuously missing from his life.

They'd met on the train the previous week. The train was always busy and on this occasion they had both been forced to stand the whole way. Damon had been walking down the train from one end looking for somewhere to sit when he'd encountered her coming from the other direction. He'd been able to see from her thoughts that she had been doing the exact same thing, and Damon had politely let her know that she wouldn't have any luck up the other end of the train. He had been impressed with himself, only a couple of months earlier he wouldn't have had the courage to talk to a complete stranger like that.

Then he'd asked if this was the normal state of affairs on this service, as he had only just started riding this train, and the conversation had gone on from there. By the end of the twelve minutes he had established that she had been catching this train for years, he had told her all about his dad's new job and that being why he was taking the train now, and Damon had been getting this really weird feeling that she had spent the whole time they were talking thinking about what he would look like without any clothes on. He didn't quite understand her attraction to someone like him, but then she didn't go to the same school as Damon, so she had no clue about his former existence as a sad geek. Which was great.

Twelve minutes a day, five days a week, one week. In that time they had spent a grand total of one hour together, and Damon should probably have been disturbed at how well he felt he had gotten to know her in such a short amount of time, except that he was so infatuated with her that he didn't care. She made him feel like any other sixteen year old kid in the world. Made him feel human. And nothing in the world was more important to him than feeling for a moment that he really could be just like everyone else.

So she knew how frustrated he got dealing with his parents, and he knew how frustrated she got dealing with her parents who had a whole different set of problems. They were the archetypal absent parents who tried to buy her love with material rewards when all she really wanted was their attention. It was kind of a clichéd background, but it explained her whole attraction to the way he could immediately empathize with whatever she was feeling and thinking.

Although increasingly what she was thinking was about what inappropriate thing she would like to do with him given half a chance. And by Friday those thoughts were starting to get downright explicit. Damon really wasn't sure he should be tuning in quite so freely to what she was feeling, but it wasn't exactly something he had any clue how to control. Plus, he'd had more fun over the weekend prognosticating about her dishonorable intentions than he could get from any amount of watching 'Hairy Plodger' and it's sequels.

Friday she had kissed him. Today they had spent half of their twelve minutes making out. Damon had to admit, his train ride to school had become an unexpectedly life changing event.

But once again, all too soon, their time together was drawing to an end. Twelve minutes daily on a public train was never going to be quite enough, especially when it was difficult to entirely forget he was on the train heading to sit exams. Anyway, there were only four days left before things became much more relaxed.

"So, tell me this, as insatiable as you seem to be, how is it you managed to survive the entire weekend without me?" Damon asked provocatively.

"I didn't. I had to resort to lesbianism."

She hadn't, Damon could easily see, but the thought of it was enough to make the pants he was wearing seem to feel a touch too small. "How about maybe, next weekend, you want to go, I don't know, hang out at the mall? Just, as an option, in case you get bored of the lesbianism."

"I can think of more fun things than that."

"Right. Okay, I, no big deal." So, he'd fucked up there. Hanging out at the mall was totally not her scene and she was kind of blunt pointing that out. Okay, that wasn't such a bad thing, he preferred it when people were blunt.

"But the more fun things I was thinking of we'd probably get arrested for doing in public though. So, I suppose I could meet you at the mall."

Damon headed to his history exam feeling somewhat speechless. Was that a date?

* * *

It was on Wednesday that things had gone wrong.

What happened was that some twat called Daniel Walker had let himself get abducted. What the fuck was wrong with these kids? How they could they be that stupid? Damon hated to agree with his mother on the matter, but he had to feel there was an element of truth to thinking a large part of it had to be their own bloody fault. But that didn't help. His mother was still going to overreact, and Damon found himself forbidden to go to the mall on Saturday. She was just so fucking unreasonable. Like he would be stupid enough to get himself kidnapped as well. But then really, despite the hints of some kind of relaxation after his sixteenth birthday, she had now totally reverted to treating him like he was eight years old. And Damon Jackson had fucking had enough. Grounded on his first date, like the fucking sad geek he was.

He'd come bloody close to telling his mother to go stick her head in a pig. Even knowing it would just make things an order of magnitude worse he had still been tempted. Except there was nothing he could do about it. Just two years, just two years he reminded himself. Then there wasn't a fucking thing she could do about it. Drink, drugs, sex, he was going to do the lot, and then some.

So Saturday he had spent on his own in the house, playing computer games. The fucking exams were over, he should have been out there fucking enjoying himself, and he was stuck in his fucking bedroom playing fucking computer games. And however much bad language he used in contemplation of his situation, it didn't feel like he was using enough.

Anna had acted like she understood when he called to tell her. He wasn't sure, people were always so much harder to read over the telephone. She hadn't much wanted to go to the mall anyway, so she wasn't going to be devastated. But that wasn't the point.

Oh, and on top of all that he had spent most of the week having stupidly vague visions at awkward moments. None of which seemed to be anything to do with Jake, but he just didn't have the time to focus on what they actually had been about because he was still very much stuck in the middle of having to worry about exams. It was fair to say that Damon Jackson was not a happy bunny.

Monday came and he discovered that while Anna genuinely hadn't been too bothered not getting to the mall, she'd been planning to try and embarrass him by dragging him into lingerie shops looking for underwear for her. Damon would have killed to have been able to spend his Saturday being embarrassed by that, in a masochistic kind of way, so he was even more pissed off that it hadn't worked out.

Then, school after the exams was boring as crap. And on top of it all he only managed to get to see Anna four mornings that week because she was off the Friday for her weekend shopping in New York with her mother, which meant he had to suffer three days without seeing her over the weekend. Life, he figured, could not get any more unfair than this.

* * *

But then another Monday morning had arrived, he was back on the train talking to Anna, and things distinctly seemed to be changing for the better again.

"How's the torture going. They keep you locked in your bedroom again this weekend?" She taunted him, jokingly.

"I am starting to realize they have no power any more. Every moment I spend apart from you is torture, they can't make that any worse."

"Screw your soppy love talk, Jackson. I want your tongue in my mouth now."

The conversation part didn't last long on that Monday's train ride. Maybe she really was as frustrated by not seeing him for three days as she had claimed. She certainly wasn't all that anxious to take the time out to talk about her weekend, however much she had clearly enjoyed her shopping trip.

"This coming weekend, how about we forget about the mall. My mum is out for the day on Sunday. You could come over to my house, we could, you know, play. If your mummy will let you come out to play, that is."

Damon wasn't exactly sure how he had responded. He was in something of a state of shock working out what she had just said. It was four days at least before he could get the silly grin off of his face.

* * *

Damon continued the planning over the next few days. Trying to work out every intricate detail, trying to make sure nothing was overlooked. He couldn't screw up, not this time.

His intention was to reuse the scheme that had worked so well to get him to Josh's birthday party. Nick had been more than willing to help, and had fixed it up perfectly, calling after he knew Damon would be in bed, calling to confirm the study group for next Sunday, last one of the term, really important and all that. Apologizing for calling late. Saying he would try and catch Damon at school before the weekend, but could she pass on the message that unless he called to say otherwise, the study group was definitely on. She'd have seen through it instantly if Damon had tried saying to her. Now he wouldn't have to. She'd found out her own way, and wouldn't question that.

Anna, an empty house, and six hours of freedom. This was the definitive purpose of being sixteen years old. This was it, he could officially stop being a geek, and start being a real human being.

The week had been torture. Going over the plans, over and over again. He couldn't really focus on anything else. Wasn't really interested in focussing on anything else. Although he figured he had to go easy on that, didn't want himself too worn out before he even got there.

* * *

Life, being life, nothing quite went according to plan. To start with he'd been nearly two hours late. Some problem with the train it turned out. Anna had done this whole picnic by candlelight lunch for him, but they wound up having to reheat half of it in the microwave. It didn't any of it work out exactly tasting right. And she was the one always telling him that the sappy romance stuff was way over the top. But he could see it through her eyes, for all her protestations she loved this sappy stuff.

She even liked the candles, quite apart from the fact that they looked pretty redundant sat out in the garden in the heat of the middle of the afternoon. And then just as they had finally sat down to eat, a storm had come over and it had started pissing down with rain.

It the two minutes it had then taken to get everything inside they had gotten soaked. Which, actually, had been the best thing that could have happened. Wet, skin tight clothes that had to be completely removed so that they could get them dried. Helped avoid the awkwardness of negotiating exactly when to cross that line.

They'd set the picnic back up on the kitchen floor. Damon was finding it very distracting though, trying to eat, while at the same time very self consciously staring at Anna. She in turn was staring back at him squirming and getting visibly over excited. Damon found this was a moment he wasn't sure he appreciated being able to read minds, because he could see exactly what part of him she was staring at, and more to the point he could tell she was comparing him to the only other guy she'd actually seen like that.

The kitchen floor wasn't exactly where he had planned that things would finally happen either. But by that point he wasn't worrying too much about what the plan had been. Even if the reality of the moment had turned out to be mostly clumsy and fumbled, and brief, he was too busy enjoying himself.

Actually, Damon had to admit that he had kind of enjoyed the sappy part as well. Sitting curled up with her on the kitchen rug afterwards, just talking, and talking, and talking. He was starting to get a sense of her wicked sense of humor that had been so constrained by circumstance on the train. Even the part where she chased him once round the garden naked in the rain, although Damon was pretty sure the garden couldn't easily be seen from the neighbor's house, he would never have believed anyone could push him into being quite that daring. He was acting a little dazed by the experience, his normal rational inhibitions did seem to have deserted him.

Finally she had stood up and he had watched her get dressed, savoring the last opportunity he would have to enjoy that particular view of her for who knew how long. Then he lay back as she picked a handful of petals from what was left of the flowers Damon had used to decorate the picnic blanket with, dropped them in a straight line headed from his chest downwards towards where he was starting to get excited again, smiled, and pointed out her mother would be back in less than an hour.

Damon could only grin. The truth was that the experience had left him somewhat in a state of uncontrollably grinning altogether too much. And he had no clue how he was going to avoid still having a stupid silly grin on his face when he made it home as well.

He had laid there for several minutes then finally he got up. He pulled his clothes on, concerned just how creased they were looking after coming straight out of the dryer, he had no clue how he was going to explain that one when he got home either. And he absolutely didn't care. He finally felt alive.

* * *

Thankfully his parents hadn't insisted on picking him up. Not by consequence of any trust they had in him, but rather because they'd had to go to some office function to do with his dad's new job, and his mother hadn't really had the option of saying no to that, as she was the one had pushed him into that role. Damon got to ride the bus home, he was hoping that would give him enough time to come far enough down from the high he was on that he would get away with telling his mother how productive his day of studying biology had been.

The bus took a long route, all around the houses, he had about twenty minutes more sat there before he would be home. Twenty minutes wondering how obvious it was to look at him to know what he'd just been doing. Could people work that out just by looking? He desperately hoped not.

Damon's eyes blinked. He was leaving a shopping mall, there was a girl there, sixteen maybe. Struggling with more bags than she was really capable of carrying. She was somewhat focussed on wondering how she was going to get them all on the bus without causing a scene.

He opened his eyes, he was looking out the window of the bus into a street where it was still thundery and raining, but he was feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He surrendered to the fact he wasn't going to get a choice in the matter, he couldn't quit a vision before the vision ended, it would happen whether he liked it or not. Normally he liked visions, this one just, well, the timing sucked. Hey, that was unquestionably a common factor to all the visions... without exception the timing always sucked.

Reluctantly he closed his eyes again.

The girl had cut through along the side of the mall to get to the bus stop. It didn't seem like a particularly dangerous thing to do, but Damon figured she had to be in danger. The people in his visions were always in trouble, it made no sense this time would be any different.

'Stay where people can see you.' He tried calling out to her, and kept on repeating that in his mind, but it didn't seem like she could hear him. What had he done differently that had meant Jake could hear?

Damon tried to evaluate the situation, it didn't seem all that bad. There were people only a short distance in front of her waiting for the bus, and others headed in and out of the mall entrance not far behind her. There were a couple of the mall service doors open, but, she was hardly likely in danger from mall staff. Damon was puzzled, why was he so certain she was in shit serious trouble?

He could see her pause as she passed one of the open doors. He could sense an intense curiosity... just what really did happen behind the scenes at a shopping mall? She was peering into the darkness to see what she could see. And what she could see was a man pointing a gun at her. Damon could sense disbelief, and amusement, she figured it was all just a stunt, a joke. This was not good, Damon tried to scream at her to run, but if she could hear him then she wasn't listening. She'd seen the gun, but she had no clue there was anything wrong. And it was already too late, there wasn't any time left for her to turn and run even if she did figure out what was going on.

Damon found himself entranced. The visions were usually vague, this was the clearest one he could remember. And he really wasn't sure what was going on. He had assumed danger, but she wasn't aware of any of that, and despite seeing the gun, Damon wasn't so sure any more either.

There was a noise, he couldn't hear it, just knew there had been some kind of a noise. A gun being fired? He couldn't tell, but it didn't seem like that. There had been some kind of impact though, something had hit her, except there was no pain, and she still appeared to be conscious. It didn't make immediate sense. Then Damon saw the bags drop to the ground as she stumbled forwards, and then the darkness. Darkness, always it ended in darkness.

He blinked. He was back on the bus again. The visions had always been a puzzle in the past, this time it was slightly different. This time he had the beginning of an understanding of the mechanism, he knew that he was watching events unfolding exactly as they were happening. Ridiculous as it sounded, he was fairly sure that what he had just seen had really happened. Only, he wasn't exactly sure what it was that had happened, he wasn't exactly sure what he had seen. The events just hadn't made much sense.

* * *

There was no silly grin getting home. His mood was deadly serious. He headed quickly for his bedroom, pulled out his page of notes from the biology folder and started trying to write everything down, every detail of the vision, as much as he could remember. She'd been headed for a bus, he had images of bus company names, bus route numbers, that might help place the location. He had a very distinct memory of her face, but that wasn't so useful, he was no artist, no sketch he drew would be of any use identifying her.

He kept writing until there was nothing more he could write, until he was exhausted. Then he sat back to try and work out what it all meant. It didn't make sense that she was dead, but he really wasn't sure what did make sense as an alternate explanation of apparently getting shot.

He glanced back at the rest of what was written on the page he was holding. But there were no particular clues, nothing to enlighten him.

Every note on the list was meticulously dated. Two weeks, three days and five hours since the previous vision. That was long enough that he'd actually started to miss the experience. But this wasn't what he had in mind when he wished he had them back. Why the fuck had he wished for something like that? Just when he had felt like he had finally achieved his ultimate goal of normality, this had come along to fuck things up. Having visions was not exactly normal. The fact he had visions at all meant he would never really be able to consider himself normal. But then, if he wasn't a normal human being, then what the fuck was he?

At least he was sure it was paranormal rather than delusional, sure he was a freak, but at least he could take solace in knowing that he wasn't a mad freak.

* * *

There was silence at the breakfast table the next morning when he finally made it downstairs. At first he was freaked he was going to get into trouble for being late down for breakfast on a school day. His mother was looking particularly stony faced, it had to be something worse than that. For a moment he had started to panic, convinced that somehow she must have found out what he had been up to the day before. Then he saw the newspaper on the table and realized it was something much less scary. Another abduction.

Reluctantly he unfolded the paper to read the full story, and nearly choked on the cup of tea he was trying to drink. Sally Ann Drake, victim number ten, the headline said. The name meant nothing to him, but the photograph that was printed with it, that was all too familiar. It was the face he hadn't been able to sketch the day before. The girl in his vision had been Sally Ann Drake.

Damon sat silently in contemplation. Things, he considered, just couldn't get much more fucked up than this. It explained everything, she hadn't been killed, she'd been abducted. Damon had managed to have a vision of an abduction actually taking place.

The day had been such a perfect day. Now he was going to remember it for all the wrong reasons.

* * *

**7: Woolly Thinking**

* * *

"Curfew, what the hell use is that?" Jake threw the newspaper down angrily.

"Jacob Templeton Laris, you will not use language like that at the breakfast table. I realize you had plans to go to this festival next week, and your camping trip is only a week or two away, but this is serious. Ten now. Ten. And the curfew isn't certain, just one of the options they're considering, it might never happen, you know how it is, stupid politicians, not anything to do with them, the police are meant to be the ones solving crimes, but the politicians think they have to be seen to be doing something or no one will remember they're there and remember to vote for them next time, so they have to come up with these panic responses regardless of the sense or practicality of it all. And things have gotten bad, they're saying this is the worst since that time fifteen years ago, nine disappeared that time, and oddly enough those were the same weird mix of boys and girls of all different backgrounds, very little in common other than their age, and of course the police aren't saying anything, but you know the newspapers they love their conspiracies, and no one was ever caught last time, and people are obviously bound to question the connections, and I'm sorry, but I don't for one minute believe the police being able to dismiss the parallels quite so readily, although I accept they know more about the case than we do and clearly are not telling us everything they do no, but I have already made my opinions on that subject quite clear."

"Sorry, I was just, looking forward to the camping trip." His mother had twisted the conversation several degrees away from his incautious expletive, but he was aware an apology was still expected. He couldn't see it quite as clearly in her thoughts as he had been able to in the past, but he didn't need to see it, he knew the precedent.

"Well, I don't like the idea of you going away on either of those trips, I don't exactly like the idea that your sister went off to university three years ago and I have no idea what dangerous things she gets up to. But I suppose you have to go out on your own at some point. We will discuss the camping trip again nearer the time, and really I can't see those incompetent politicians getting any kind of curfew in place that fast. And honestly Jacob, I think you could do with the fresh air, I mean I know you are trying hard not to work so much at school, but honestly Jacob I'm not entirely convinced you don't go up to your room and just pretend to listen to music while secretly you're up there studying for your exams."

Jake could rarely understand his mother's logic. He liked it, just, didn't understand it.

It was the middle of the exams, so Jake would have another few days before he had to confront the school over the festival trip. He wasn't so worried about that, it was seriously unlikely any curfew that was introduced would happen in time to screw that little scheme up, and he was completely sure of his ability to convince them to go ahead with it regardless. It was the risk of something screwing up the camping trip that bothered him. His mother was right though, politics didn't work that fast.

The camping excursion had been long planned. They'd been talking about it since the previous summer. Jake, Dean and Mike, four days hiking and camping the first week of the summer holiday, which was exactly two weeks away now. He'd figured it would prove a useful escape from having had to think responsibly for so long, a chance for some serious decompression after the exam term. For a moment, back when he was getting the headaches, he'd seriously considered that it might have to be called off, and that prospect hadn't pleased him. Now the idea of not being able to go because of some stupid curfew had him seriously pissed off. He couldn't accept the thought that there was nothing he could do about it. He was Jake Laris, there was always something he could fucking do about it. He had two weeks to make sure that nothing went wrong.

Right now the summer term at school was drawing rapidly to a close. It didn't feel too much like summer yet, warm weather but with frequent intermittent storms. Forecast to be a scorcher of a summer ahead though.

It had been nearly six weeks already since the accident, four weeks since he'd been on the medication. Since then no more voices, no more blackouts, no more headaches. He was starting to enjoy life again, the worst of his problems were fading into nothing more than an unpleasant memory. The medication was proving to be completely effective, it had given him back his life. And though he outwardly would refused to admit it, he had even started to enjoy school. Apart from the part where he was having to behave himself, though that had more to do with the teachers having changed. Somehow they seemed to have found a way to mess up his instinct for working out what they wanted to hear. He half figured they had been taking lessons from Ms Hinton in his absence.

Although his friends as well, Dean and Mike, there were moments he was feeling disconnected from them as well. But that was probably all just how they were dealing with the pressure of their exams, for once all of them starting to figure they had to focus a greater part of their attention on the future, on their next steps in life. Only Kath didn't seem to have changed at all, not that he'd spent that much time with her at all to have much opportunity to notice.

The whole idea of a curfew though, that was just going to make life miserable. Just when he thought he had really started to get everything together again.

* * *

The week passed, the exams finished. Saturday came, and it was time to go out and celebrate. It was proving more difficult to celebrate than they had anticipated.

Jake and Mike had gone on ahead to buy something to drink, and planned to meet the others for a picnic in the park. Provided it didn't rain, which would make it the first time this week it hadn't. Jake conceded the whole day was intrinsically dependent on wild optimism to work, but then generally that tended to work for him. Good reason for not making plans, plans never worked out anyway.

"Fake ID?" Mike seemed doubtful.

Jake didn't really want to be having this conversation, but he was stuck with it, and it was his own fault, so there was no point getting defensive. Mike's doubts were well founded. At the same time he didn't want Mike to know that. "You have a better idea?"

"We might be lucky."

"Right, Harry Potter might turn up and magic us up a couple of six packs in return for you giving him a blow job."

"Last Sunday was just a fluke, it never took you more than fifteen minutes to find someone who would go in an buy the drink for us before."

"And I want to go out and get pissed. Not spend two hours trying to get something to drink again."

"Didn't think you could drink on your psycho meds."

"Probably shouldn't. Mostly I like being sane, sometimes I wish I wasn't on them though."

"Sometime I wish you weren't. What happened? I mean, what really happened? There was way more going on than one panic attack, you think we're all stupid, but we had actually worked out something was wrong even before the accident. You never talk about it do you?"

Jake was frustrated, Mike kept on bringing that same question up. Jake had tried a dozen different ways of answering, but he had no clue what Mike was looking for. Nor was this the best time to have the conversation dragged off course. But, he had to give some kind of response. "I don't remember much, there's nothing much to say."

"I don't know, just, everything seemed easier back then. In those days you got the booze, we got pissed on it. Now you don't drink like that, and nobody seems to want to buy the drink for us any more."

Bizarrely Mike had managed to segue back on track. Jake wasn't sure how that had worked, but he was happy that it had. "I told you, people are getting scared, and another abduction is just going to make it worse." Jake was lying, well, partly. He figured it was possible the statement was coincidentally true, but really he had no clue. The real reason it had taken two hours was because he was struggling to spot people who would be sympathetic to breaking the law and buying a bunch of underage teenagers some drink. Mike's new found insightfulness was getting irritating. There certainly had been a time he could just look at people and instantly tell if there was any point even asking, but it just didn't seem as obvious to him these days as it had in the past. So, if the fake ID worked it was a much better option altogether.

Plus he was reasonably sure the ID would work, it wasn't perfect, it was very unlikely to fool anyone who looked to closely, but he wasn't expecting anyone to check too closely. The shops weren't really looking for proof of age so much as plausible deniability in court. They could easily get away with claiming the ID looked convincing, and that was all he needed it to achieve. Mike, however, was shitting bricks. He'd already concluded the scheme wouldn't work, and Mike was not all that good at blundering through with the right amount of obliviousness to just let things happen. And while Jake was aware he had developed definite issues with his own people judging skills, he was comfortable that he could still act obliviously enough to get away with almost anything.

The two of them had also noted that people were looking at them a lot. Not staring, just glancing disapprovingly. Two teenage kids out alone, it was becoming a more and more rare sight these days. And Jake had noted that today particularly, they did indeed seem to be the only unaccompanied children around. Not really surprising, the mornings papers had still been full of the latest abduction story, even though that had happened five days earlier. It pissed Jake off though, for all the curfew and restrictions on unaccompanied children were only being discussed, everybody seemed to be acting like it was a done deal already and that Mike and him were in violation. It did little to challenge Jake's low opinion of the paranoid sheep mentality of the general population.

They had reached town, and Mike had not been cheered up any by the circumstances they found themselves walking into. Police everywhere. Bloody typical. They managed to find a seedy looking off-license that looked promising. Mike remained outside while Jake went in and did the deed.

Jake came out smiling, the scheme had worked perfectly. That would show Mike.

"You two on your own?"

"Yes." He stopped, turning, having already worked out exactly what he would see; a police officer looming over them for a friendly chat. Thankfully that would render Mike so terrified that he wouldn't say a word, and Jake knew he wouldn't have to worry about Mike saying anything and screwing their chances of walking away from this unscathed.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen." He knew the officer wouldn't believe he looked eighteen. He had to think of some excuse. Stopped by police, of all the bloody bad luck.

"You don't look eighteen."

Jake offered the ID card to the police officer. It was a bluff; the shop might have been convinced, the police would spot the fake easily if the guy bothered to check. Jake was praying the police had other reasons to have stopped them than underage drinking. "No, I don't look eighteen. That's why I always carry ID when I go to buy drink."

"Live around here?"

The guy had glanced at the card, Jake couldn't work out if the guy had spotted the fake or not. That frustrated him, he would have preferred to know for sure. "Live on campus, at the university." Pretending to a student was usually a safe bet, and Jake could easily fake enough local knowledge to sound like he knew the campus.

"You know this girl?" The officer handed him a crude photocopy of some holiday snap. A girl, maybe his age, hard to tell. Not the same picture that had been in the paper that morning, but definitely the same girl.

"No."

"Well, she's missing. May have run away, or may be in trouble. All over the news."

Jake nodded politely, wondering why it was police officers always took such pride in stating the bleeding obvious.

"You have a telephone?" The police officer continued.

"Yes."

"Well, if you see her, or you even think you see her, call. And take care of yourself. Right now we're worried about any kids at all out on their own."

"Thanks, I'll be careful. If I see anything I'll call."

"I suggest you stay closer to your campus while the kidnapper is still out there."

Jake remained silent, knowing police officers also always liked to have the last word, however stupid. He watched the guy depart and head off to bother someone else.

Jake felt a little shaken. He'd gotten away with it, just like he always did. This had been a lot more effort that it usually was. But, they had the booze. And Mike hadn't completely fallen apart watching the exchange, Jake nodded silently at him.

"Chill, try and put this out of your mind and focus on more pleasant thoughts, like getting this to the park and drinking it."

* * *

The rain hadn't stayed off, but in the event that had worked to their advantage. There was an area in the park where there were picnic tables under a canopy. The rain meant that there was no one else around and they had been able to enjoy their afternoon eating and drinking in peace. It had definitely been a lot better that way.

They had tried to avoid discussion of the abductions, and of the police state that the country now appeared to be turning into. They kept their focus on much more fun things, like their upcoming plans to ditch school for a day and go spend that time at the summer street festival that was held every year to celebrate, well, something or other. It was a festival, who cared what the excuse was. They'd been before, but always in the evening. The best time to go was supposed to be during the day on the day of the feast of St. James, when the student crowd descended on proceedings to get rat-arsed, turning the festival into an orgy of sin and debauchery. Okay, it probably wasn't going to be that much fun. But it would certainly beat spending the day at school.

* * *

Monday came, and Jake arrived at school to discover his presence was requested at an audience with Vader. He'd kind of been expecting that part. He hadn't been expecting that it was going to turn out to be the start of just one of those fuck awful days on which nothing went right.

"Laris."

"Yes, Doctor Vader?"

"In light of the current climate, and with the possible imposition of a general curfew, I'm afraid that as admirable as your proposal for a group from this school to attend the 'Future of Computers in Society Exposition", and as much as I supported the endeavor, the governors have taken it upon themselves to cancel the trip."

Jake looked at Vader's eyes, trying to see what was going on. Nothing obvious was the answer. "I thought they approved of the trip?"

"Yes they did, and please don't feel there's anything personal, or indeed any way in which they disapprove of your excellent idea. But they have chose to vet all such activities, they feel the timing is just not appropriate. I understand your disappointment, but, until the police show a touch more intellectual prowess and get this case solved, I'm afraid disappointment could well become the order of the day."

There had to be something he could say. Something that would make Vader reconsider, go back to the governors with a recommendation as to why this trip should have been an exception. Work out a compromise at least. Jake stared and stared at Vader trying to see what might work, but he couldn't think of anything. Fucking useless. He was forced to concede: "Yes sir. Understood."

* * *

"They fucking what?" Mike was incensed.

"They're vetting all trips." Jake replied slowly.

"Sounds like what you do to a cat." Dean mused.

"Not much difference, really." Jake conceded.

Mike wasn't about to let go. "Shit. And you couldn't talk him out of it?"

Jake was a little exasperated. "It wasn't Vader, it was the school governors."

"Right, and you let that stop you? What the fuck went wrong Jake, when did you ever let something as trivial as impossibility stop you before? What the fuck happened to you?"

Jake was frustrated. Mike was being completely unreasonable, unfortunately he was also completely right. There should have been a way of making Vader see sense regardless of what the governors said. Jake knew he should been able to come up with a plan, something, anything, that would have meant they could still go. No question, this disaster was the result of a serious fuck up on Jake's part.

The original plan should have been perfect. Now it was a completely wasted effort. Jake had organized a big trip to a computer exposition that the school had agreed to sponsor. The exposition was being held across town from the annual street festival, and of course they had only been intending to put in a token appearance at the exposition before heading across town. It had seemed like a great plan at the time. Would have been a great plan, had they not gotten themselves vetted. Jake could understand their anger. He was angry with himself as well, but that wasn't going to help.

He wasn't even sure why he was finding it so difficult to have this conversation with Dean and Mike. They seemed to be acting unusually densely. Normally Jake could explain things and they would get it, he could tell they understood what he was saying. Right now they didn't seem to be getting any of it. Worse still they were blaming him, and he had no clue how to answer them back. It really was turning out to be one of those days.

"Come on, guys, give him a break. You act like he's perfect when you both know as well as anyone that the only thing special about him is that he can break wind at both ends at the same time." Kath, unusually, came to his defense.

"Oh, thanks." Jake told her.

"But you fuck up my trip to go see Foo Fighters in two months time, and I'll vet you, personally, with a carving knife."

Jake smiled, although he wasn't entirely sure if she was kidding or not. That whole deal was so far off in the future that he hadn't even started thinking about how he was going to pull it off yet. And he was sure of one thing; this wasn't the day to start trying.

"So what about the camping trip, if they do go ahead with this stupid curfew idea. We just giving up on that as well?" Dean turned to the conversation to ask the other question Jake would rather have avoided right now.

"You think I should call up, talk the government out of the idea? I mean, I should be able to do that, right?"

Jake was fairly sure that had gotten through to Mike. Actually, it was kind of an under the belt blow. He would have rather come up with a much more subtle way of making Mike feel like an idiot, but he was struggling so much with the conversation, he had to take the opportunities that were presented, however cheap.

"You think the twats in government really will impose a curfew?" Kath asked.

"I think they will if the police don't start making some progress pretty damn fast. If the abductions keep up at this rate, they'll figure they have to be seen to be doing something. Even if it's something that totally isn't going to work. Anyway, isn't going to affect them, is it. None of those government fuckers are under eighteen."

The bell rang, pretty much terminating the conversation.

Mike grabbed Jake by the shoulder and held him back momentarily as they headed out to class.

"Look, sorry, I know, I was just really looking forward to the street festival. I know it isn't your fault. Just. I'm fucking pissed off. I'm not even allowed to go over to France with my brother and his wife on Saturday, and I mean, no abductions in France, but, what the fuck is this place coming to. And camping would have been fucking mental."

"You don't think that's going to happen?"

"If they won't let me go to France, what the fuck is the chance they'll let me go camping. I mean, I was relying on you to do your Jedi mind trick on them. Look Jake, if anyone can pull it off, it's you, sure, just, I'm trying to be realistic up front. Then maybe I'll be more reasonable about blaming you when it all goes totally tits up."

"Yeah, I think. You know, I'm pretty pissed off as well, I'm not used to failing. And I don't like it. Let me talk to them, give it a go. I guess we've got nothing to lose now. Because if you don't go, it isn't happening. But not today, because, today just really isn't working."

* * *

**8: Taking Liberties**

* * *

"Party?" Damon questioned.

Nick looked back at him like he was kind of stupid. "Yeah, party. Music, drink, drugs, snogging. Party."

"Me?"

"Yeah. And that girlfriend of yours, the one you pretend is real, what was her name, Anna, if she can make it. You're both invited."

"Why?"

"So you have someone to snog at the party. Because I won't snog you."

"Right."

"Look, kid, this is my last school party. I'm going off to university in a few months whether I like it or not. I just want to do something to say thanks to a bunch of people that, you know, made the last couple of years at school just a little bit more tolerable."

Damon wasn't sure what level of sarcasm it was that he was sensing from Nick. He was never very sure with Nick. "Very funny."

"Thursday 6th then?" Nick pushed.

Damon desperately wanted to answer yes, the problem was that he just wasn't sure there was any chance of coming up with any plan that would convince his mother to let him go, not after the latest abduction.

The hesitation lasted too long for Nick. "Little boy, I'm going to teach you something about life. One day you'll get caught. Sooner or later it happens to everyone. There are only two things you need to consider: What it costs you if you do get caught, never underestimate the consequences, and whether what you were doing was worth it, never overestimate the benefits. Get the balance right, and life will be sweet."

"Consequences; pissed off mom."

"But no actual direct risk to life or limb."

"Benefits; party."

"Fucking good party."

"Okay, I'll be there. Somehow. I'll work it out."

"You're learning, little boy."

"So you know this all from hard experience?"

"No, I've never been caught. However hard I've tried."

* * *

Damon was frustrated. Very frustrated. It was only the first day of the summer holidays and he was wasn't dealing with it very well. Anna off on holiday with her father for a week, and he already wasn't sure how he was going to make it that length of time without her. Sure she could turn to lesbianism, Damon wasn't going to be so lucky, lesbianism wasn't really an option for him. His cunning plan was to try and keep himself so busy for the week that he didn't notice her absence. And his plan was mostly falling apart already.

Still, he was done with exams, he was free from school, and though he had likely not done as well as he knew he was capable, he figured he'd done well enough to match expectations. Now he had six weeks of freedom ahead. And despite the continuing paranoia, he actually was enjoying a lot more freedom that he had expected to be given. Although the police hadn't made any more progress, the immediate threat of curfews and other restrictions on the movement of all teenagers had receded, and the government wasn't feeling the pressure for any knee-jerk responses for now. Added to that, it was the summer holidays and his mother was out at work every day, and it just wasn't practical for her to confine him to the house the whole time, much as he figured that would have been her preferred option. It was even impossible for her to push him to spend his whole time on school work. His exams were over and this time there really wasn't any school work for him to do. So today he had announced to her that he planned to go to the library for the day and it had faced her with an interesting conflict of concerns. She was delighted that he was doing something productive with his time of course, but she was not so sure if he was safe to be going there on his own. Damon hadn't been worried, he had known she would gravitate towards him doing something positive with his time. Of course, if she had known what he planned to do at the library, she likely would have had a very different opinion.

He liked the library. Especially downstairs in the reference section, back where they hid all the books on parapsychology. Not the most popular part of the library, and on a nice sunny summer day, there was no one there except for him. Which wasn't a bad thing, as he couldn't stop thinking about Anna, and he was sure his pants weren't doing a great job of concealing the outline of his ardor. He tried to turn his attention back to the books he had out on the study desk.

He'd eliminated precognition and retrocognition from his enquiries, the visions had been very much of events as they had occurred. That left him looking at remote viewing or telepathy. The fundamental difference was that telepathy meant actual mental contact with the people he was seeing, which was certainly at least to Damon the more interesting concept of the two. The problem was that the people in the visions had never shown much evidence that they could hear anything Damon shouted at them, or had any concept of any connection with him, which would have meant that remote viewing was very much the more likely explanation, except for that one moment that Jake had looked up and appeared to recognize him. Sure, it was possible Damon had just imagined that, but it left him with a sufficient level of doubt that he wasn't about to rule out the possibility of it being telepathy entirely.

What he needed was a way of testing the hypothesis. If he had another vision of Jake then maybe what he had to do was to actually try and communicate directly with. Wherein lay the fundamental problem with his investigation. The visions were random and beyond his control, and although Jake had turned up more often in visions than any of the others, he'd also been silent since the car accident. The one newspaper article Damon had found had indicated a probable recovery, but the news media never bothered following up on stories like that, and Damon had to accept that anything could have happened. But, if Jake did turn up again, then he had to figure on trying very hard to talk to him. Assuming that did any good. Even if Jake somehow might have been able to hear, that didn't automatically mean he was exactly going to listen. Indeed, Damon accepted, Jake might not exactly be too pleased if he though he was hearing things that weren't there.

Damon's other objective for the day had seemed much more realistic. He was trying to see if he could plot any other connection between his list of notes about visions, and the disappearances of the kids the press were now calling the tomorrow people, a phrase the police had thrown out on one occasion in a press conference a month or two earlier and that the press had now pretty much latched on to. Anyway, after he'd realized the connection between his last vision and the kidnappings he'd gone back to add that fact to the notes. He'd come fresh from reading the newspaper report, which had listed names of other victims, and had realized that his list of notes already contained one of those names, he just hadn't made the connection before. If there were two separate links there back to the abductions then it was either some statistically wild coincidence, or there was something way more sinister going on.

So, he'd taken advantage of the internet connection in the library, and pulled up the news reports for each of the abductions and noted down the date, time, location, name, any specific information that the articles had mentioned. Then he plotted that information against his own schedule of visions. To say that process had spooked him was an understatement. The overall correlation had been downright disturbing. He'd had visions relating to five of the nine disappearances for sure. And there was no way he could write that off as coincidence. With the exception of the visions about Jake, the overwhelming majority had been connected with abductions.

Damon had been creeped out at the revelation. Alone in the basement of the library he had found himself nervously looking around the stacks, and had been completely cured, for the time being at least, of his uncontrollable horniness. He had decided to abandon his research for the time being, and go get some fresh air.

He was puzzled though. Why was Jake so much of an exception to the general pattern of the visions? He had no answer. And really, he didn't want to think about the other obvious question, why the fuck was he having all these visions about the tomorrow people?

* * *

In the days that followed he found his mind preyed upon equally by his uncontrollable urges to think long and hard and inappropriately about Anna, and his wish that he hadn't found about what was connecting his visions. He really had no clue what he could do about that. Thursday he was happy to be spending the best part of the next three days at a lan party tournament. Okay, he was by now half way towards being a cool kid, but old geek instincts died hard. Someone had managed to resurrect an old World of Warcraft server, so they were in for a serious retro gaming orgy. Someone even managed to get a bunch of old Windows XP PCs to complete the experience. No one was quite sure where Stephen had managed to dig up those old fossils, but it was certainly going to make for some total fuck off fun.

* * *

The plan had been simple. Each of them had started out the first day with completely new characters, names based on famous former players from the game's heyday picked out of a hat, and the objective was to play through and see who had progressed his character the furthest by the end of the tournament. Damon had picked the name Dudefella out of the hat, which he really wasn't sure about because it sounded totally gay, but he was stuck with it. Anyway, he quickly immersed himself in the game and by the end of the first day had established himself as one of the two characters who were already in the lead by a sufficient margin that for the ultimate glory it was going to be a straight two way fight. Of course now the others were banding into teams to support them, and the gameplay was getting much more interesting.

The second morning they had opted to convert the ad hoc teams into guilds, and had spent the first hour or so working though the configuration and plans for that. Then the first quest of the day had begun for real.

Damon blinked.

Why did this always fucking happen at the least bloody convenient time?

Jake again, it was Jake. Damon rocked back in the seat. He had to concentrate, as sacrilegious as it might be to not pay attention to the game in progress, this was more important. He had to try and find out whatever he could, anything, everything that might help him break through and make contact.

The vision was very vague though. What images there were very indistinct, it was more about sensations than anything. A sensation of carefree pleasure rapidly shifting to one of fear. Fear was always the stronger emotion, the one he could receive more accurately. The one he could understand.

But then it had changed again. Abruptly the fear had vanished to be replaced by confusion and nothingness. Damon couldn't understand what was happening. It had to be the most half arsed vision he had ever experienced.

He blinked. That was it. That was fucking useless. Reluctantly, and with an intense sense of disappointment he returned to the game. He resigned himself to having to wait another who knows how many weeks before contact could be reestablished. He had pretty much given up trying to understand any pattern in the timing of the visions.

The wait turned out to be no more than about half an hour. That was really unprecedented, Damon couldn't remember anything like it. Both in terms of the fact it had only been half an hour, and also in the intensity of the experience, there was nothing vague this time around. This was no normal vision, or at least, no vision of someone in a normal state of mind. First the the fear returned. Then a confused fear, a mind babbling.

Damon had grabbed a notepad that was on the desk beside him and tried to scribble down everything he could make out. Words, not just feelings, actual words, none of it made sense, none of it was exactly coherent, but Damon figured he would worry about what it meant later. For now he just copied it down verbatim. There was an address in there, definitely an address, numbers, maybe a telephone number. And images of a face. An older face, looming down over him, distorted, frightening, almost unreal. Threatening, very, very threatening.

Then the images started getting really weird, beyond weird, disjointed, surreal. Owls, something about owls. Eden, a wasteland and a big mess. A voice in the wilderness, calling. The bizarre and twisted images were tearing into his thoughts with a ferocity that was hurting his mind. Images of getting stoned while watching a sunrise, a body lying wounded and broken in the woods. Someone diving naked off a rooftop. The depths of anguish over being betrayed by a friend. A nuclear explosion not happening, a terror hiding in the darkness. A choice, the fate of the world hanging on a single choice, and a hundred million minds burning as one. Image after image pounding into him, like someone else's life was flashing before his eyes. Damon was sufficiently freaked by the intensity of it all that he desperately wanted it to stop, but he knew there was no way to escape this one.

The vision had already lasted several orders of magnitude longer than any other vision he'd had before. Finally it seemed to return to some level of sanity. Jake lying on the ground in the sunshine, by a stone wall somewhere, desperately needing to pee but not having the energy. And there was someone else there watching, definitely not the same guy as before, this one was a little younger and had very distinctive red hair. He was staring at Jake lying there as if he was searching for something, then he reached down and took the watch off of Jake's wrist, whispering something about owls as he did so. And then the darkness came. Just darkness again.

Damon blinked. Whoever the fuck Jake was, he didn't exactly seem to lead the most cheerful and carefree of lives. And as for the weird as weird shit stuff Jake was seeing, the guy had to be on drugs or something. But that in itself was interesting, answered a question. The images wouldn't be distorted or so heavily overpowered by the emotions of whoever it was he was seeing if it was just remote viewing. So, conclusion, it had to be telepathy.

Damon smiled. Fucking neat, he was telepathic.

* * *

The weekend ended and Damon couldn't exactly say he had a conflict of interest with himself, because the battle was entirely one sided, There was no question that he was going to spend his Monday with Anna now that she was back from holidays, but he was aware that he did need to get back to the library with at least some urgency to work through looking up the some of the stuff he had managed to scribble down from the last Jake vision. Right now he couldn't work out when he was going to fit that in. He still hadn't exactly worked out when he was going to go shopping for some new clothes either, he still had a bunch of money for that left over from his birthday, and he had figured going with Anna was the surefire way to make sure he didn't pressure himself into buying anything his mother would approve of just for the sake of it. He had maybe wondered if that was something they could do on the Monday.

Unfortunately there was no doing what he really wanted to spend the day doing on the Monday. Anna's mother was going to be home, so there was going to be no opportunity to go back there, which Damon had been hoping might be an option. Not that he was desperately feeling... well, okay he was desperately feeling. But he would have to control his desperation.

So they had met up in the park, and it had been about half an hour before they had really taken enough breath to have anything approaching a meaningful conversation.

"This Thursday?" Anna peered intensely into his eyes.

Damon could see she was interested. He was having fun experimenting. He'd always been aware of having an insight into what people were thinking, the empathy he'd chatted to Dr Roger Elvyn about, but he was starting to wonder if there was some element of telepathy there as well. Empathy was all about non-verbal clues, Damon was trying to work out if there were things he was able to work out about the conversation that couldn't be so easily explained away as just being that or intuition. And whether he could really read Anna's mind or not, it was interesting to speculate. "You don't believe I have any real friends who aren't geeks."

"I'm sure they're very real to you."

"Well those real friends don't believe in you either."

"I'm just a wild fantasy of your imaginings."

Damon really hadn't a clue how to respond to that one. "So you are interested then?"

"Yeah, go on. If it gets boring we can sneak upstairs and find some quiet and secluded corner to misbehave atrociously in."

She meant it, but it wasn't telepathy that told him that, it was the evil and seductive glint in her eye as she said it, combined with the fact he knew that was exactly the kind of thing she really would do. "It feels distinctly like you're still after my body."

"Your feelings would be right. Come on Damon, why do you keep putting yourself down. You're fun, I really do like you." Anna quit her joking around and looked seriously at him.

Damon hadn't said anything about his self confidence issues, but she'd worked it out. Intuition there, probably. Damon began to wonder if he was overanalyzing the conversation. He loved just talking to her, but he had it in the back of his mind that this could be so much more intimate a moment if she could somehow connect with what he was thinking the way he found it so easy to connect with her. If she'd been able to read his mind she would have known what his issue was. She couldn't, so he figured he was going to have to say it. "But you've been there, done that. I can see it in your mind, you need things to be new all the time, different."

"It can be different and still be with you. Where's your imagination? You really don't believe you're good enough, that someone actually might really like you."

"Alright, so, why did you really do it?"

"Fortune and glory. I had a camera rigged up, figured I could sell it to an online porn site."

Damon frowned momentarily, for a moment he hadn't been sure if she was joking or not. "All the time I was getting undressed you were looking at me and comparing me to that other guy you slept with once."

"How the fuck did you know that? I never told anyone about that. Ever."

"You were thinking about it."

"What, and you can just read thoughts?"

"Sometimes."

"So, how come then you didn't read the part where you really got me going and I thought how much better you were than him?"

"I think I had other things on my mind at that point."

"I like you Damon Jackson. Even if it does scare the crap out of me how you know what I'm thinking like that. So what is it, some kind of magic occult power like on TV?"

"How would I know, I'm not allowed to watch TV shows like that. Anyway, the occult is a bunch of bullshit."

"So, why do I feel like you watch anyway?"

"I wouldn't bother watching if they didn't disapprove so much."

"You like doing things just for the disapproval, disapproval that you never get because you never get caught anyway?"

"Er, yeah. I guess. Doesn't make much sense, right."

"No, but I think it's cute."

He wasn't convinced. "You think the freckles on my willy are cute."

"The freckles on your willy ARE cute. I'm afraid we're just going to have to agree to differ on that point."

"What drugs are you on?"

"What've you got?"

Damon relented and started laughing. As much as he struggled to understand why anyone liked him, there was no denying she meant everything she was saying. She really did care. "So, okay then, you go for new experiences so much, you ever tried anything mind altering?"

"Thought you could read my mind?"

"Just things you're thinking about."

"But now I'm thinking about it."

"Kind of. You have, but, that's all I can see."

"Yeah I have. So?"

"I guess I'm just curious. Seen people taking stuff before. Wondered what it was like."

"So you haven't?"

"Me, kept prisoner in my own home by overprotective parents?"

"For the disapproval?"

"I would be tempted."

"I think I like the way you think, Damon Jackson."

Jake almost maybe smiled. the moment was surreal, but... No, it was just surreal. This was the way every conversation with her ended up going, and that was why he found himself so seduced by her. He loved this.

"When are you going to start breaking some rules, Damon?"

Damon contemplated. Getting stoned at Nick's party would be a good start. Assuming there were things there to get stoned on, he wasn't sure, but it seemed a realistic possibility. Then, maybe see if he was up to letting Anna get to trying the sex with the danger of getting caught thing that she seemed obsessed with.

"What's that?" Anna asked.

"What's what?"

"That devious, calculating, three steps ahead of me smugness thing? I don't need to read minds to see that."

"So what am I thinking?"

"I have no clue. But, I'll bet it involves being naked."

Damon half smiled. It did, but she was just guessing, she didn't really know.

* * *

**9: Paranoid Awakening**

* * *

The journey North had been pretty cramped. Jake, Mike and Dean along with all the necessary stuff they would need for the camping trip packed in Mike's brother's car, which wasn't exactly oversized. Then there was the unnecessary stuff they had sneaked in. Twelve cans of beer, two bottles of vodka, and an eighth of an ounce of something much more interesting to get wasted on. Importantly for Jake this was a chance to try and get back on the same wavelength as his friends, even if it was only for a few days. He wasn't yet sure if it seemed to be working, they had spent most of the two hour journey talking, and he actually still felt a little distant. Meaningless and trivial talk, but, he still enjoyed it, Jake had been missing that.

The plan was they would be dropped off in a small village in the borders, they would be away three nights, and would be picked up in another small village thirty miles North on the fourth day. Jake wasn't exactly sure how he had managed it, but he had managed to convince Mike's parents that there wasn't any need to cancel despite the abductions and the threats of curfews. Jake had no clue why, but for some crazy reason Mike's parents still seemed to trust him. Playing on the car accident and coma sympathy thing what what had really helped swing it. It frustrated Jake that he was having to rely on such clumsy and unrefined tactics though.

Jake's mother had been delighted - no work on this trip, no distractions, plenty of fresh air and relaxation. Of course she didn't know about the booze and other stuff that they had concealed in their gear.

They had made good time on that first afternoon. It was moderately warm, fortunately very dry. They had set off around two and were well ahead of schedule by the time twilight started to give way to darkness. It was completely black by the time the had the tents up and the camp fire going. Perfect timing to break open the booze. Jake pulled out another can of beer and tossed it across to Mike.

Jake had come on this trip without much expectation of getting too pissed. That had been the one down side to the medication, it didn't mix well with alcohol. Of course, that was before he realized he had left his medication in the seat pocket of the car on their way there. It was inevitable he was going to forget something, but he wished it could have been something slightly less important. Still, if things really did start getting bad he could always telephone for help. And, just maybe, it did allow him the chance of getting really, really pissed after all. Which was great, better than great, because it really wouldn't have been much fun being the only sober one on this trip.

Indeed, after only a few drinks, Mike was already sounding more than slightly slurred. Once again going back to the same old question Jake had repeatedly failed to satisfy his need for an answer to. "Come on, quit the crap, tell us what happened to you."

Jake had to concede though, the bugger was persistent. "You two never fucking shut up about it, do you?"

"You never fucking talk about it."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Look at me, I'm a teapot. I'm a teapot." Mike mimed being a teapot.

Jake laughed and propped himself up against a tree. He understood, they wanted to know, well, something. He wanted to tell them, he just didn't know what it was they wanted to hear and that made it tough. If that was the only thing he worked out on this trip, it would be worth it.

"I always knew you guys really valued me as a human being. It's just, tough to describe totally irrational paranoia, because it doesn't make sense. It doesn't make any sense, and that's the point. I don't even know what I was running from."

"So what is so difficult about saying that?."

"I don't know. Everything just seemed so much more complicated than it should have been."

The conversation drifted on, his mind wandered. It required only a fraction of his attention to maintain the conversation, watching them becoming increasingly pissed. This was what life was meant to be about. Almost boring, almost mundane. Only the fact he couldn't get the feeling out of his mind that there was someone out there watching them from the forest kept complete normality tantalizingly out of reach.

His mind wandered, in time he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He awoke sharply, momentarily alert. There was silence, well, there was about as much silence as he could expect given the situation. It was no longer dark out, but not yet light. What had woken him?

He felt uncomfortable, lying there bloated, maybe that was all it was. And they were out camping, no surprise to hear movement outside. Screw the paranoia, he needed to take a walk. He seriously needed a slash.

Movement outside?

He got nervous. He glanced at his watch; 6:00 AM. The others would be asleep for ages considering the amount they had had to drink. He could easily expect another two hours before there was any movement from them. So what was it?

He had heard voices that weren't there and now he was being followed by people who weren't there. Perhaps the voices belonged to the people, perhaps they had learned to shut up. Perhaps he really was mad. At least he had been able to tell the voices to fuck off.

He pulled his shorts on and hesitated before unzipping the tent door. Told himself not to be so stupid, and then stopped. There was no one there, he could see Mike and Dean in the other tent, that was it, he was sure of it. His courage returned and he stuck his head outside. It looked a little misty, but the sky was cloudless. It had the feeling it would be a very hot day.

He had walked further than he needed to in order to find somewhere to relieve himself, enjoying the early morning solitude. He felt so alive, so clear-headed. And so far no sign of any headache, despite having been off the medication longer than he should have been. He shook himself off and glanced at his watch, he had only been gone for ten minutes, it was still early. He decided to go back and go back to bed. He would feel better for it.

* * *

"Hey Jake you lazy sod. What time were you thinking of getting up?"

'Stuff you,' he thought. Still, better that they didn't know. He dressed for a second time and stepped out into the morning. It was getting warm, at this rate it would be too hot for exertion within a couple of hours. Walking all day might well turn out to be impractical. Only one thing remained unsettled.

"We standing here slagging each other off or are we going?"

* * *

They had abandoned the pathway long before it reached the foot of the hills. Turning off, they had pushed through the wooded glade to the grassland on the far side. Then down the steep rocky incline to the gushing stream. The hot sun glared down on them through the cloudless sky; it would have been unbearable but for a constantly blowing cool breeze.

Jake threw the heavy rucksack down beside him. He and Mike had been carrying one each. He sat uncomfortably on an upturned rock for a few moments while he pulled off his heavy walking boots, then he carefully negotiated his way down to the water itself. He plunged his feet into the fast moving torrent, savoring the cold.

The others just stood on the bank, unmoving. They had been walking for about an hour. It was hard work.

Jake unbuttoned his shirt. "We can't go on much longer in this heat. Hell knows what it'll be like by midday."

Mike nodded, 'Yeah, but we can't stop here. There's a lake about two miles downstream. I think we can make it before eleven. We can spend the afternoon there."

Dean pulled out the map he had pushed into his side pocket. He unfolded it and knelt down to study it. "This is the middle of nowhere, there can't be another living sole for miles around."

Jake stood up. He wasn't so sure they really were all that alone. On and off, just an awareness of presence in the distance. Never getting closer, never straying too far. Nope, he smiled to himself, it wasn't paranoia. Statistically not all that improbable that there would be other people in the area even if they were too far away to see or hear. It only got to be paranoia if he started thinking they were out to get him. And that would be crazy. "Peaceful, and safe. Your turn to carry the pack for a while, Dean." Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed his boots and began to make his way downstream, stepping from one stone to the next.

Dean reluctantly heaved up the rucksack, and he and Mike followed along the bank.

* * *

It was just after eleven that they arrived at the lake. The river had widened, and Jake had joined the others on the bank some distance back. They had chosen to follow along the eastern shore; the other side was far more densely wooded and there seemed fewer places where it was possible to get down to the water. There was also a reasonable sized island in the distance, they decided to find somewhere nearer the island that was sheltered by the trees. They pushed on through the bracken and bushes, coming to what was almost a pebble cove. It was here they decided to park themselves for the afternoon. Jake threw a rug down and collapsed onto it. Dean pulled a couple of cans from the bag and passed them round.

Mike sat down on a rock, threw his head back and took a long drink. "Anyone fancy a swim? We could go out to that island, it's not that far."

"Yeah right", Dean sounded defensive, "Only I didn't bloody bring a swimming costume, did I."

"You twat, you knew we were hiking along a lake. What, can't you swim or something?"

"Of course I bloody can. I just didn't think we would have time to stop anywhere."

"Well, we're stopped."

Jake watched the exchange in amused silence. Bloody typical conversation for them. He realized he'd kind of missed those. Mike trying to wind up Dean, looking for any weakness, Dean getting so defensive that he winds up backing himself into a corner, then Mike gives him an out, lets Dean concede defeat gracefully. They were so predictable.

"No one around, don't see we need swimming costumes really." Mike went for the wind up.

Jake looked up at him. You bastard, Mike, he thought. Good wind up, but totally unfair. Dean will back down, but you're the one more scared. Good poker face, but behind those eyes, you're terrified that this once, just this once he won't back down, and you screwed yourself totally. It would be se funny to see Dean win, just for once. Jake glanced across at Dean. Okay, no chance, the guy was trying to put on a decent poker face as well, but he was already ready to cave in, the only question was when. He might still manage to prolong the fight a little further, but the battle was already lost.

"We could do that." Dean concealed the fear well in his response, Jake had to give it to him, it was a good performance. Good enough he had Mike half believing, had Mike totally freaked out. It was wonderfully amusing, and it was a pity the outcome was already a certainty, because this time Dean really deserved to win, he was so close. If he just had the balls to call Mike's bluff one more time, but no, Jake could see it, Dean's nerve was gone, he was about to back down.

Jake had every nuance of the situation worked out, for the first time in what seemed like months he was feeling totally in control. Fuck it. If he wanted to hand victory to Dean, he could, he had that power. Jake smiled.

"Race to the Island then. Last one there cleans up after we eat." Jake pulled his pants of and jumped into the water. He didn't stop to witness the chaos he left behind. He didn't need to. He knew what was going to happen. And it felt great. This was what he loved doing. Screwing the odds and making things happen. He hadn't done anything like this in months. Hadn't been sure enough of himself to take the risk. Hadn't felt like he had really known what anyone was thinking in that long. This was great, this was fantastic, this was fucking incredible. He felt alive.

* * *

They swam out around the island, as they saw it closer the impracticality of making it ashore had become very apparent; The island had been overgrown, too many nettles and thorns. So they had played around in the water a while before heading back to eat lunch.

There hadn't been any more tension after they had gone in swimming, although Mike had grabbed a towel to cover himself almost immediately they had made it back to shore. An act that hadn't gone unnoticed by Dean who proceeded to avoid doing the same and make sure a slightly uncomfortable Mike could see exactly who had won the face off. But Dean, being Dean, didn't labor the point. Beyond that the afternoon had been good humored pretty much, and they had made a decent effort hiking around to the far side of the lake where they planned to camp for the night. Jake had noted though, Mike hadn't tried to wind Dean up quite so much after the morning's entertainment.

They had pitched camp, eaten a traditional camp meal of sausage and beans, and had crashed a little earlier than planned. They had drunk their way through most of the alcohol on the first night, so the second night they had quickly finished off what was left, and then switched to getting stoned instead. It made for a mellow change of pace after a long day of exertion. Dean had not held out all that long, and he had stumbled off to bed, his night to enjoy the single tent on his own.

Jake had watched him crawl in and zip up the tent. He could sense Mike just waiting to let rip with what he'd been wanting to say all day.

"You bastard, Jake." Not much doubt Mike was still just a little pissed off at him. No points for guessing why.

"Me bastard? You bastard for starting it."

"I was just winding him up"

"I was just winding you up."

"Alright, so maybe I deserved it. You enjoyed it didn't you, handing out justice like that."

"Not as much as you enjoyed me doing it."

"You knew exactly what you were doing didn't you."

"I don't play unless I'm going to win."

"Fuck you. I've missed that. Thought you'd lost it."

That was it. Jake stared into the camp fire, trying to get his head around the realization. How could he have been so blind? It was so fucking obvious. "That's what you wanted to know, isn't it? All those times you asked about what happened to me in the crash, that's what you were really asking. What happened to me that meant I'd lost it."

"I guess you didn't lose it completely." Mike conceded.

"Yes I did. I fucked up getting us to the festival, I only got us on this camping trip with some pretty rough sledgehammer tactics. I'm still working on getting it back. I wouldn't even describe today as exactly me being on form."

"This is you on a bad day? You're fucking dangerous."

"Count on it."

"You figure you can get us to the concert then?"

"I know that if it's possible, I'll find a way. I promise you that."

"Remind me never ever to cross you again." Mike laughed nervously.

Jake grinned back at him. "Relax. I was only winding you up. And you know, it is mostly funny how you wind Dean up."

"Just not if I haven't got the balls to follow through."

"You got balls, two of them, I saw."

"I know." Mike conceded reluctantly.

Jake still hadn't quite worked out that part, why Mike had gotten himself so worked up. "So, you want to go skinny dipping again tomorrow?"

Mike had laughed nervously, then gone a little quiet, although that was the fact that he was tired more than it was that he was embarrassed.

Jake waited. Mike hadn't answered immediately, and the silence had lingered long enough that somehow Mike had managed to fall asleep right where he was lying beside the embers of the dying camp fire.

Jake lay awake by the lake. Trying to figure how he could have been so stupid, how he hadn't seen it earlier. That was the reason they'd been acting so distant, they'd figured it out, they knew that somehow he'd lost his edge, they just had no clue how to tell him. And they were right. If he had missed something that obvious, they were totally right.

* * *

Day three took them close to a small town. Strategically planned to give them a chance to stock up on booze. Of course Jake had ended up drawing the short straw for having to walk into the town to look for an off license that would sell him enough booze to last them the next couple of days. He wasn't particularly pleased about the situation, but told himself it was his own fault for being the only one of the three who had the balls to be able to talk his way out of trouble if anyone started asking awkward questions about his age.

He left shortly after breakfast. It wouldn't be quite so hot if he could get away that early in the morning, the walk there would hopefully be a little more bearable. It was walking back he wasn't looking forward to. He was meeting the others for lunch at an old youth hostel there they had stayed at before. Chance for a shower and a decent meal before they set out for their final night of camping out.

* * *

The walk had taken about forty minutes. He hadn't exactly been pushing the pace, he had been looking forward to the opportunity to enjoy the time hiking alone. Only that hadn't quite worked out. At no point had he ever felt completely alone. There really was someone following him.

The guy had been pretty effective, stayed well out of sight. What gave him away was his consistency. Not a hunter, not playing by instinct, playing by training. Nobody would randomly happen to follow the exact route into town that Jake had chosen to follow. He'd deliberately chosen one that kind of twisted and turned a little, kept him off the beaten track. It was unlikely enough anyone would pick the same path, to keep the same speed as Jake had randomly dallied along the trail, well, it might have been coincidence, but statistically speaking that was exceedingly unlikely.

What Jake couldn't figure was why anyone would find him interesting enough to follow. It was tough to be sure, but it didn't feel like the guy following him had the motivation to be doing so of his own accord, he just followed orders, followed Jake. So who was giving the orders? Jake wasn't sure he really wanted to find out. He wondered if they had any idea that he knew about them.

It seemed so pointless. The guy was following, watching, waiting. Waiting for what? Watching for what? Jake smiled, smugly, there was a strange validation he felt that anyone would consider him important enough to expend all this effort on. Following him couldn't be fun, in fact must be a hell of a boring job. Jake had to admit, it would have driven him to banging his head against a brick wall. He couldn't have done it. He would have told them to shove it. He had never considered a career that involved him being ordered what to do. He probably wouldn't have failed the intelligence tests anyway.

Anyway, at least now he was sure it wasn't all paranoia. He wondered if maybe it ought to have made him feel frightened, concerned at the very least, but it didn't. Honestly it was difficult enough as it was to take the idea of being followed seriously. And if the worst came to the worst, if he got caught, well, he figured he could always talk his way out of it. That had always worked in the past.

He reached town and quickly found a seedy looking off-license that looked promising. He flashed cash, no questions were asked. He headed back along the street loaded down with vodka and tequila. The thought had momentarily crossed his mind to try and shake off his pursuer, but that really wasn't going to be practical weighed down with booze.

Someone was definitely still watching him. Two of them now it seemed. He had to cross the road heading out of town, it gave him a great chance to look around and see if he could spot them. He was kind of curious just to get a glimpse of them, reassure himself it really wasn't just paranoia. The traffic was heavy, very heavy. Morning rush hour, bad time. He picked his moment and darted across.

He looked back, caught a glimpse of them, and laughed. They were stuck on the wrong side of the road, he probably hadn't lost them, but they would have problems catching up. If he waited they would get suspicious.

Something had changed. Something was wrong. They were already suspicious. Fuck it, they were running. Jake was momentarily panicked, but trying desperately to think rationally. Trying to run was a bad idea, they could easily outrun him. His best chance was just to try and slip out of sight. That made sense right? In the movies it always looked easy to work out how to escape. In reality he only had about three seconds to weigh up his options.

He dodged into an alleyway, hoping to double back. It was a dead end. Shit. No way forward, no way back. Could he fight his way out, or was there anywhere to hide? An old van, nothing more. Wire fence beyond with barbed wire on top, he stood no chance climbing over it. Dead fucking end.

They were coming. He could feel panic building up. He pleaded desperately with himself not to piss his trousers. What the hell would they do with him. Could he fight his way out? He wasn't sure he wanted to try, whoever these guys were, they were probably well trained in gratuitous violence. He ran to the van, hide under it? They would look. In it? He grabbed the handle, it was padlocked.

No way out, he turned to face the one way in. Opposite him he saw a man pointing a gun with what appeared to be a large silencer at him. He sniggered, maybe that was inappropriate to the situation, but it was how he felt. This was totally surreal. This had to be some kind of delusion. This kind of shit didn't happen in real life. Alright, he knew what was happening; he'd gone cold turkey on his medication, he was hallucinating, seeing things again. This was a paranoid fantasy caused by a neurochemical imbalance in his brain. All he had to do was ignore anything that seemed at all improbable, like the man standing in front of him, and get back to the youth hostel, drink himself into a stupor, and tomorrow he could start taking the happy drugs again.

He heard a sudden short noise, like an aerosol only quicker. Air gun, dart gun, he saw the dart protruding from his upper arm. He hadn't felt it. He couldn't feel his arm. He felt his legs beginning to go. He was angry, the attack was totally unprovoked. And the pain didn't feel particularly as delusional as he had been hoping for.

His thoughts felt irrational. As consciousness slipped away he wondered what his friends would do when he failed to return. And as the blackness hit him, his final thought involved a hope that he wouldn't be tortured.

He didn't hit the ground, the two figures had reached him and broken his fall.

* * *

He was in a cave, deep underground. Crawling along. It was getting narrower and narrower. He couldn't go back, there was nothing to go back to. As he crawled further along, the rock behind him faded into black nothingness. It was getting harder to move as the floor moved upwards to meet the ceiling, harder and harder, slower and slower.

But there was no other way out. Above him there was just rock, miles and miles of it. The concept of a planet surface above seemed like some wild fantasy. It was so far away, and he was down here. Cut off from reality, isolated, alone. Totally alone. There was no point in screaming, shouting pleading, there was nobody there to hear him. Just rock and more rock.

And as the caverns became narrower and he tried harder to push his way through, so the rock began to cut into him. His clothes were already cut, ruined, now stained with the blood seeping from his wounds. And still he pushed onwards, he couldn't give up.

Then he felt panic, he was wet. Not just blood, water. Rising water, rising through the tunnels. Rising to drown him. He coughed, spluttered, choked as the level reached his mouth, he couldn't twist round, there was no room to maneuver. He was completely trapped. No way out. No one to help him, nowhere to go. And yet still he could not give up. The water filled the tunnel. He could not breathe, seconds, minutes. He could feel his lungs crying out for oxygen. The pain was beyond coping. He twisted and thrashed, and then abruptly floated freely.

He was out, in open water, he could feel himself being pulled towards the surface. Faster and faster, he knew if he could just hang on a few moments more. He could see the brightness above him. So close.

And as he broke the surface he glanced back. That fucking weird geek again, reaching out to him. He could see the lips moving, forming his name. But in silence - he heard nothing. And then the guy started to fade, leaving him once more alone, floating in water. And then the water began to fade, and he became vaguely aware he was in a place, and not a dream. He could also hear a voice. Real voice, not another one of his imaginary ones. Talking to him, or talking at him. And he could make out what this voice was saying.

"Blood test is positive. Showing the genome variations. So why is your neurology so indistinct?"

Jake wasn't sure how to answer.

"You could be a latent. Could be this calibration is fucked up. I haven't had a reliable reading in two months. Could be a false positive. I can't afford to make mistakes like this. You think?"

Jake kind of shook his head, no one could afford to make mistakes, that was certain. He wasn't sure how many double negatives made shaking his head the right thing to do, or exactly what he was agreeing with, but it seemed polite to respond in some way.

"Blood test positive. That's certain. So, I guess I'll add you to the list. Shoot you up with 10mg midozolam to make you forget our little conversation, tag you, and dump you. And do it fast."

There was another needle being shoved in his arm, it hurt, it was still tender from being hit by a dart. This was bloody silly. He twisted and thrashed, he tried to scream out, but his body didn't respond. He tried to scream out with his mind, but his mind wasn't working. There were strange images flashing through his head, like memories, only memories of things he couldn't remember, places he hadn't been, things he hadn't done, like his mind was working backwards. He wanted to remember, if that guy wanted him to forget then he wanted to remember, anything, everything he could. License plate of the van, telephone number of the phone the guy was holding, the address written on the envelope he was holding. Anything that might help. But the memories were leaking away faster than he could think them. He felt disjoint from reality. He had to be insane, he was imagining it all. This was all a problem of his fucked up neurological imbalance.

But he kept on fighting and fighting to remember, until the darkness consumed him.

* * *

Jake had a splitting headache, his stomach felt twisted. The ground beneath him was cold and hard, and there was a faint stench in the air. He tried to open his eyes, but the intense brightness forced him to close them again almost immediately. He tried to rationalize the situation, at least work out where he was; the effort was too great. He slumped resignedly against the stone wall he was sitting beside. He knew he had been there some time, his last vague memories were of darkness. Where or when or why?

He was shivering, the day was still hot, he certainly wasn't shivering from being cold. He had no jacket on, his shirt was ripped, most of the buttons gone. One shoe was missing and his trousers were wet. His memory reluctantly admitted to a vague recollection of his desperately needing a piss, but lacking the energy to stand up and drop his trousers first. He blinked an eye gradually wider until he could see his surroundings vaguely.

It looked quite a pleasant day.

He appeared to be back behind some disused, tumbled down old farm building, lounging in the shadows. The place was overgrown. He looked down at his watch to find he no longer had one. He dejectedly estimated it to be about midday, give or take an hour or three. The sun was looking pretty high in the sky, his instinct was to start out immediately, try and get back before his absence was noticed. Some fucking chance after this long. He should have been back hours ago.

It might help to know where he was. He pulled himself into what could vaguely be described as a standing position. He pulled off his other shoe and dumped it in an old oil drum by the gate, it wasn't worth keeping. He pulled off the shirt. It was hot, he didn't need it. His wallet was lying a few feet away. He took a couple of unsteady steps towards it. A thirty minute walk suddenly started to look like something of a challenge.

His right arm was hurting, stiff. The vodka and tequila bottles had rolled across the dried mud track, fortunately the carrier bag was still in one piece. He went to pick up the bottles and get them back in the bag. There didn't seem to be any grip left in the fingers on his right hand, but at least his left hand was working.

He started to look around for the missing watch, trying to spot where he might have dropped it. Nowhere around here appeared to be the answer. He did manage to find his cellphone, smashed case, didn't look like it would be working again any time soon, so he couldn't even call for help. He continued to search for the watch, but there wasn't anywhere on the dry mud that the silver strap wouldn't have been sparkling like crazy in the midday sun. He must have dropped it earlier, he would have to retrace his steps. He glanced around, realizing the hopelessness of that idea. He had no fucking clue how he'd gotten there, which direction he'd come from. The watch was a lost cause.

He knew there was something else missing as well, he tried to think what. The throbbing in his head increased in objection to his sustained thought. It was a warning sign that he had gone too long without taking medication, he desperately needed that right now. Some fucking chance when he had left it in Mike's brother's car. For now he would just have to cope, it would only be another twenty-four hours, he would survive. Reluctantly he had to give up on hunting for the watch, first priority had to be getting back to the youth hostel. Fortunately he couldn't have wandered too far off base. If he could just get to the main road. He tried taking a few deep breaths to try and clear his head. At least the walk would be good for him.

* * *

By the time he found himself on vaguely familiar ground, he knew only that he had taken slightly longer than thirty minutes. It was also extremely hot. He had kept under the shade of trees for the most part, but was still sweating. He was carrying his shirt in his hand, wishing he had dumped it along with his shoe. It was ruined, but he was stuck with it for now. He felt dehydrated, and his trousers were really beginning to smell. His memory was still somewhat clouded. He remembered leaving the off license, he remembered crossing the road on the way out of town. He had been alright then. At that point the memories stopped. Then he had ended up in the alleyway.

It didn't make any sense. Alright, no, it did make sense. Just not any sense that he wanted to have to face. It was another blackout. He was off his medication and he was not safe to be out on his own. He also felt particularly upset at having lost his watch, but he could worry about that later. For now he was desperate for a shower and a cold drink, and the only way he was going to get that was to push on.

* * *

No keys. That was the other think he was missing. Fortunately the front door of the hostel seemed to be unlocked. Careless of the other guys, but he let the observation pass. They were sat out the back asleep. He ignored them for now. He tried to make his way quietly through to the bathroom and poured himself a large cup of water. The drink gave him a certain feeling of decency, more importantly it started to help ease the headache. Getting his pants off felt even better. He dumped them in the sink to soak. He dragged himself in the direction of the shower.

There was a full length mirror right next to the shower cubicle, he avoided looking. In his consideration he would look bad enough when he came out, no sense depressing himself.

The water felt beautiful. And his arm was beginning to work again.

* * *

He stepped out of the shower to find he had company.

"Where the fucking fuck did you get to? You know what fucking time it is? You had us out of our fucking minds. And what the fuck happened to your arm?" Mike sounded a little angry.

"What's your problem? Me, I blacked out. Don't know what happened. Forgot to take my happy drugs."

Dean was staring with some concern at the state Jake was in. "Shit, you're a mess."

Jake glanced in the mirror, the arm was very heavily bruised. Apart from that he looked pretty much in one piece. Heavily bruised arm, clothes torn badly, watch missing. No memories, shock. It could have been worse.

"Well, on the bright side, this is a hell of a lot better shape than I was left in after the last time I spazzed out."

Mike was struggling to see the joke. "That's not funny Jake. You could have died. Seriously, could have died. This is totally out of hand. Look, I'll call and get us picked up."

"No, I'll be okay. I'm not letting this beat me. I just..."

"Just what? What if it happens again?"

"You just need to make sure I wander off alone. I just need you guys to look out for me."

"You're crazy." Dean sounded exasperated.

"I have a bottle of vodka says I am getting drunk tonight. There's another bottle here with your name on it. You want to walk away from that? Exactly which one of us would that make the totally fucking crazy one? I've got mental problems, yes. But I'm not stupid."

* * *

The hike out to the final camping site was subdued.

Jake was actually feeling better than he had expected. The headache was vaguely under control, a couple of aspirin had seen to that, and even the paranoia of the previous couple of days had receded. His arm was still tender and bruised where he had done, well, whatever it was that had happened to it, but that was all. Emotionally he felt fine. Dean and Mike were the ones who were more freaked out at this point.

For a moment he considered winding them up, pretending to go psychotic on them... but he could see the joke wouldn't be appreciated. Plus he needed them. Until he could get back on his medication he needed them looking out for him. That was a cold realization for him, understanding his dependance on the medication. It hadn't really been something that he had spent any time thinking about before, the long term prospect of being stuck taking happy drugs the rest of his life. He had blindly convinced himself he was cured, now he could see it was more a choice between being permanently drugged up the rest of his life, or being locked up in a padded cell. He didn't feel angry, just resigned to the inevitability of it all. It didn't make for such a bad life, there weren't any real negative side effects. He just had to be more careful, careful not to do anything stupid like forget to bring his medication with him when he went off on a camping trip in future.

First he had to deal with Mike and Dean. He had an idea. "I get paranoid. Really paranoid. Convinced like I'm being followed, like there's someone after me..." He started to explain.

They didn't respond, but they were listening. He knew he had to figure some way to edge them back from being quite so freaked out or the evening was going to be a disaster. They were freaked because it was the safe option, because they had no clue whether they needed to be freaked out right this minute or not, it was a defensive reaction. He had to give them something to latch on to, some criteria that they could use to judge for themselves whether the risk was immediate or not. And he had to give them some belief there was something they could do about it if the worst really did happen.

"I'm not feeling paranoid right now." Jake continued. "Not like I was this morning. It comes on slowly, takes hours. Once I get paranoid I start to get agitated, confused. Pretty incoherent I would imagine to anyone around me."

"Dude, you're always incoherent. How the hell are we supposed to spot the difference?" Dean asked bluntly.

Jake relaxed a little, having engaged them in the conversation he had already half won the battle. He could afford to push them a little now. "Normally I'm just more intelligent than your ability to understand. I realize that isn't difficult, but, you guys have to work with me on this one. I don't get violent or dangerous or anything like that, I just get overpoweringly scared. At some point my nerve breaks and I run. That seems to be when I black out, I don't know. I never remember much past that. All you need to do, if I start to freak, is make sure I don't run. There's rope, tie my legs up. Seriously, I'm giving you permission, I'm asking you as friends to promise me you won't let me run. I mean, as fine as I feel, I don't think it's going to happen. But that's what I need you do do."

"So, you're saying, if we can't understand what you're talking about at any point between now and tomorrow morning, we get to tie you up?" Mike had quickly grasped the consequences of the concept.

Jake smiled. "Don't even fucking think about it!"

"Hey, I kind of like this idea." Dean chimed in.

That was it. They needed control, they had it. Jake could sense that the tension was dissipating already. He wasn't totally certain they could go through with tying him up, which he figured was probably a good thing, but they weren't thinking about that. What they were thinking about was ways they could use this to wind him up, they were so easy to read at times. Jake had really missed being able to connect with them like this the last few months.

* * *

If there was a downside to living permanently on medication, it was the no drinking part. Jake couldn't remember the last time he had been able to get this drunk. And, he conceded, this could be his last opportunity for a while. With that restriction the next five weeks could turn into being a very boring summer. Every reason to make the most of it now.

Time to have some fun. Dinner was over and it was the most perfect cloudless evening, a cool breeze blowing just enough to keep it from being too hot to sit around the camp fire and chill out. He poured himself another tequila.

Mike and Dean were already totally drunk. Not so guarded. Usually all he could sense were vague emotions, generalized impressions, but when they were drunk, or, maybe it was when he was drunk, there were moments he looked at them and it felt almost like he could hear exactly what they were thinking. And when they were drunk, what they were thinking was freeform, always slightly incoherent and often embarrassingly amusing. And normally Jake would respect that... unless of course he was totally drunk as well.

"You and Kath what... you and Kath actually did what? Come on, you honestly thought no one knew."

Dean did think that no one knew, in fact he'd been certain of it. He'd also been totally wrong, Mike had obviously been aware for weeks that something had been going on. On this occasion Jake was the one left feeling like he was out of the loop. He really couldn't work out how he'd missed it, but it looked like he had missed a whole bunch of stuff the last couple of months. What irritated Jake more was that he'd failed to spot something that even Mike had managed to work out, and that was just sad.

"Look, it wasn't a big deal. It was, just..." Dean tried to explain, and quickly got himself tongue tied.

"You and her passionately snogging, that isn't a big deal?"

"It wasn't like that..."

"You had your tongue in her mouth, exactly what's the difference? You claiming on a technicality that she just licked and didn't suck."

"It is rumored that she didn't actually inhale." Mike stated with a mock innocence. Jake smiled, that level of subtlety was not bad for Mike.

"Will you two shut the fuck up. Alright, you know, yes. It happened, satisfied?" Dean was defensive.

"Hey, relax, you're so up tight. It's more than I've ever done. It's cool. I'm happy for you." Jake tried to diffuse the tension.

Dean was unconvinced. "Now you're just taking the piss."

"No, honestly. Dean. I don't take the piss out of you for shit like that. I take the piss out of you for the size of your ears. I take the piss out of you for being scared shitless of going skinny dipping. I take the piss out of you for still having that same transformers pencil case you got when you were ten. I take the piss out of you for your dress sense. I take the piss out of you for..."

"Fucking shut up." Dean shouted somewhat indignantly, Jake was finally interrupted. Meanwhile Mike was cracking up laughing on the ground.

"But I don't take the piss out of you for actually having done something cool for once. Good on you."

"I was worried, I mean, sometimes the way you and Kath talk, I just." Dean was struggling to get the words out.

"You just thought I liked her. She's intelligent, I like talking to her. But I knew you had the fucking hots for her. What kind of friend do you think I am?"

"I don't know. I never know what you're thinking."

"I never said I liked her." Jake pointed out.

Mike finally interjected into the conversation. "I would point out that you never ever admitted you liked anyone, you act like you don't care if you ever get shagged. But no one exactly has you pegged as a virgin."

"I care. Just, never met a girl got me excited enough to want to do something about it."

"You saying you are a virgin?" Mike actually sounded astonished. He really hadn't considered that a possibility.

"Yeah, basically, for now, I guess so. What is this, the fucking Spanish Inquisition?" Jake replied.

"No one..." Dean started.

Mike groaned. "No, not that fucking tired old joke!"

"So what about you then, Mike? Dean closing in on Kath, I freely confess I never got any, you got any secrets you want to share?" Jake already knew the answer, or rather the lack of one, but he figured it would help Mike to have the opportunity to own up.

"I don't get you, Jake. There are half a dozen girls at school would throw themselves at you, and you say you don't even want it. Me, I want it. I'm fucking desperate for it. But even Dean's had more luck than me, how sad it that? Er, no offense, Dean"

"Right, none taken." Dean stated, not quite sure how else to react to the insult.

"Maybe there's a lesson here, Mike. You act too desperate. Try what I do, treat women as if you don't care. You'll give of waves of disinterest, and seriously, for some girls that can be like a red rag to a bull. Of course, whether those are the kind of girls you ever want to get anywhere with is another matter."

"Seriously, I'm not picky."

"What about Kath's friend Lisa?" Dean asked.

Mike stared back at him, it took him a moment to get the joke. "Okay, I have my limits. She has to be some kind of ape-woman. I'm only into humans."

"The problem is, no humans are in to you." Dean retorted. Jake was impressed, that was about the first time he could remember Dean getting snarky with Mike.

"Fuck off, Dean." Mike didn't have a good comeback, so he switched tactics. "So what about you Jake, saying you never found a girl exciting enough to do anything about it. You explored the option you might be a screaming poofter?"

"Not actively. Honestly Mike, if any guy was going to float my boat, it would have been you, and you don't, so, probably not gay. I just, I don't know. Sex doesn't interest me that much."

Dean was laughing, more at Mike than Jake. "Shit Mike, he was making sense when he said you were so ugly that even he wouldn't shag you, then he starts talking about sex not being interesting. I don't know about that."

Mike ignored the insult and joined in the counter attack; "Yeah I don't know, Jake, sex not interesting, sounds, well, incoherent. What do you think Dean, we need to think about tying him up?"

"Sounds fun. Oh, sorry, you mean in case he has one of his freak outs, I was thinking of something totally different." Dean's humor was unusually eloquent, getting pissed out of his head really helped loosen him up that way.

Jake was happy, this was exactly the kind of conversation he had hoped the evening would degenerate to.

* * *

They'd finished off the booze and then lit herbal joints to smoke by the light of the camp fire. The evening had given way to twilight, and then darkness. Dean had disappeared to go take a piss in the woods, and had been gone so long that Mike and Jake had almost been ready to break out the flashlights and go look for him. Finally he turned up admitting he had fallen asleep stood there with his cock hanging out, and figured it was more than past time he got to bed.

Mike and Jake weren't exactly sure how much longer they would last, but it seemed only decent to stick around while they still had a buzz.

"Shit, in all the excitement about me going crazy, we didn't get to go skinny dipping again today." Jake was determined not to allow the slowing of the evening to allow the conversation to get too philosophically high brow.

"I am so disappointed." Mike responded sarcastically.

"It bothers you that much?"

"Well, not any more. It's like. Alright, it's like I figured if you saw it you would work out I was still a virgin somehow, and I was figuring Dean was, and you weren't and I just didn't want to be as sad as Dean, alright."

"Always alright with the truth, even if it is a bit nuts." Jake was trying to reassure Mike, he wasn't sure if it was helping much.

Mike was more chilled out than he had been, though. "Bit of a revelation, Dean and Kath. And I really thought you..."

"I never said."

"I know, I just, everyone just assumed. Someone as cool as you."

"So hey, virgin boy, you like being more like the cool guy than Dean is?"

"No. I'd rather be sad and laid. You honestly not interested?"

"I didn't mean it quite like that. I mean, sure I'm interested. Very interested. Fucking interested. Just, it's got to be the right girl and for the right reason."

"How do you handle the, just not getting it part."

"I just handle it." Jake wasn't figuring to be subtle with the humor at this point in the evening.

"Fuck off." Mike didn't want to know.

"You don't?"

"Fuck off."

"So you do."

"Fuck off."

"You forget, I can read your mind."

"I'm bloody glad that isn't possible."

"Because you're thinking about Kath?"

"What?" Mike was getting uncomfortable again.

"Horny thoughts about Kath, which you know are completely inappropriate, but you figure as long as no one ever knows." Jake figured he shouldn't be saying it, but he was too stoned to have much restraint.

"No way, there's no fucking way you could know that."

"Don't worry about it, I know way worse secrets about you than that."

"I'm not thinking about Kath."

"You are, and kinky thoughts they are and you are so frustrated you can't wait to get back to your tent, alone, to have some fun, alone, with those kinky thoughts."

"You are so totally wrong."

"Right."

"No thoughts about Kath, no kinky thoughts at all."

"Right."

"Yes, right."

"So, how come you got yourself a bit excited there then."

"No I'm not."

"Oh yes you are."

"Not.

"Prove it then, go on."

"What?"

"Simple to prove. Show me."

"Show you my..."

"Hey, nothing I didn't see yesterday. Unless you have got something to hide."

"I've got nothing to hide."

"Then when you drop your pants and prove me wrong, I'm going to look pretty stupid, right? You'd love that, wouldn't you, just once, me looking like a bit of a tit."

"It would be pretty cool."

"Would, but isn't going to happen. Because you aren't going to drop your pants, because you totally are just a little over excited."

"So sure of yourself?"

"Twenty quid says you won't drop your pants."

"Only twenty? Piss off."

"Fifty. Alright, a hundred. Hey, I mean it. I don't joke about shit like that."

"Fuck it. Alright. Look." Mike pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and dropped his pants.

"I was right." For a moment Jake wondered if Mike was so stoned he wasn't aware of his exact physiological condition.

"Yeah, you were right about that. But 'A hundred quid says you won't drop your pants' you said. Well my pants are dropped. You were wrong about that part, and you owe me a hundred. Or are you going to try and weasel out?"

Jake hesitated, it didn't happen often but he actually had been outmaneuvered. He started to laugh, then mock millitary saluted. "For the win."

Mike hurriedly pulled his shorts back up. "Right. That was the stupidest thing I think I've ever done in my life." He grabbed the towel he had been lying on to shake it off, he was tired and needed to be turning in anyway, but his real motivation for picking things up before headed to sleep was just that he didn't much feel comfortable with the situation any more.

"That was the most obstinately bloody minded thing I think I ever saw anyone do. When it comes down to the line, maybe you have got the balls to follow through. Not many people can do that. And that's the kind of friend I need backing me up when things get tough, like right now. So don't feel bad about it."

Mike hesitated, Jake always seemed to know what to say to make people feel better about themselves, and it did help. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. Go sleep, or, whatever else it is you plan to do in there."

"Fucking, fuck off." Mike laughed, half kind of embarrassed, and half kind of past the point of caring.

Jake sat and stared into the dying flames of the camp fire as Mike departed. He hadn't wanted the night to end, he was having too much fun. He wasn't sure when he would get a chance to have this much fun again, to be this relaxed again, to be this alive again. He'd missed that so much. Maybe life had been too balanced, maybe he needed the kind of crazy roller coaster ups and downs that the last few days had given him in order to appreciate the good times.

And this moment at least, he contemplated, was the best of the best of times.

* * *

He awoke still lying by the remains of the camp fire. He had fallen asleep before he had managed to make it over to the tent. And he awoke with a bad headache. Well, if he had to have a headache, he figured it was great to feel like for once he had a legitimate reason.

He could also hear voices murmuring in the background. He felt kind of detached about that. Not quite so afraid. It wasn't exactly an entirely unexpected development. In a way it was kind of weird, he had largely forgotten what the constant chatter in the back of his mind had been like. Knowing it was all a chemical imbalance in his brain made him somewhat more objective in how he was able to ignore it. But he was quite happy as they packed up camp and headed out for the final hour of hiking to where they were getting picked up, knowing that he had the power to make this all stop very soon.

The car was a little late arriving. They had sat in the sunshine in the parking lot on the edge of town, talking quietly. The mood was a little subdued, all of them were still feeling more than a little hung over. Mike in particular also seemed a bit uncomfortable over where the conversation had gone the night before, but, that wasn't surprising really.

Mike's brother had finally turned up and they loaded up the car. The bottle of tablets was still in the back of the seat of the car, exactly where Jake had left it four days earlier. He took one almost as soon as they had set off on the six hour drive home. He counted, it was about fifteen to twenty minutes later that the voices had started to subside, to get fainter and fainter until he couldn't hear them any more even if he tried to listen. Cool, now he could focus properly on the conversation with Mike and Dean...

Only, something else was fading as well. It was really disconcerting. Dean and Mike were talking about fish food, it was a stupid and meaningless conversation, but that wasn't the point. It was like he couldn't hear Mike and Dean at all any more. All he could hear were their words. Empty words, devoid of feeling. Like he was watching them on TV, like they weren't even there.

Distracted from the conversation he found himself trying to check how long before they would get back, and he was also reminded that he was still very much pissed off at having lost his watch.

* * *

The weekend passed and Jake spent it mostly in bed asleep, or sat out in the garden watching videos on his phone. The one thing he had managed to do Saturday was to get out and get a replacement cellphone. He figured he probably could have patched the other one together with tape and glue, but he'd been saving up for one that gave him internet access as well, and it seemed like the right time to go ahead and buy that. He'd kept the old one for now, stuck it in his desk drawer, it might be of some use one day in case of emergency.

Jake hadn't seen the others since the car journey back had ended. Dean was off on holiday with his parents for a couple of weeks, Mike was around some but the weekend back he had to go to some cousin's wedding, and after that he was going to be working a summer job most days to help pay for a car he was planning on buying, although Jake couldn't see how Mike could possibly earn enough money to buy anything that wouldn't be totally scary. Kath was off spending time with other friends of hers that he knew existed, but that was about it. He hung out with her at school a lot, but not quite so much over the summer.

Jake had to admit, the summer was actually looking like it was going to be disgustingly boring. At least until the final couple of weeks when it was time to start making plans to go see the Foo Fighters concert. Assuming of course that he still had the ability to pull off something as audacious as getting them all out of school to see the concert. On current form, he had to concede, the chances seemed slim.

* * *

Sunday afternoon Mike stopped by to drop off some of Jake's tent pegs that had gotten mixed up when they'd broke camp that final day. It also looked like he had something on his mind he needed to talk about.

"Look. About..." Mike stopped as he headed to leave. And the silence went on momentarily too long.

"Just say it." Jake finally prompted. Nothing. Mike was still blank. Something was getting him really wound up, but Jake couldn't see what it was. It should have been obvious, it should have been screaming at him. But all he sensed was nothingness. Which made it impossible to know exactly what he needed to say. Somehow he had to let Mike fill in that part.

"Had a great time. Did some pretty stupid things, you know." Mike was struggling.

"We all did some pretty stupid things, look at me." Jake gestured at the bruising on his arm that was only just starting to fade. But the observation didn't help progress the conversation, Mike was still stuck, and Jake wasn't sure he could help.

"I know I was drunk, but..." Mike couldn't finish the sentence.

Was this about Kath? Jake didn't like guessing. He'd been so used to knowing what people were thinking for so long that, really he hadn't ever learned how to guess. He didn't like risks. He didn't like to play unless he knew he was going to win. And right now he had no clue whatsoever. But, that wasn't going to help Mike get past this. "Don't, I mean, you don't have to say it." Jake started, wondering how generic he could make the response while keeping it heartfelt and convincing. "You were there for me. Look, I got myself, way over the line, I screwed up big time. And, I just want you to know, I owe you for that. I, really, what you did, that was a big deal. I am not going to forget that. I am not going to forget that. So..."

Mike exhaled... probably with some equally strong emotion attached, which might logically be guessed to be relief, but Jake had no clue. Then Mike managed to stammer out; "I won't forget this either. Thanks."

Jake watched Mike head off. He'd just agreed something with Mike, and he would have felt a little more confident if he had half a clue what the hell it was he had just agreed to.

Could he learn to live like this? He didn't like the realization he'd come to while he was away on the camping trip that there was something missing from his general level of awareness of the world around him. All the time doped up on the medication and he hadn't really noticed. Well, not quite true, he had noticed something wasn't right, just never figured the connection to the medication. He'd wondered why he hadn't known what the teachers were thinking, why he didn't seem able to connect with Dean and Mike.

Now he had some kind of understanding. There was something missing, something missing when they spoke, something missing when they didn't speak. It wasn't just an impression, it was real, there really had been a time he could sense what they were thinking. That was gone now, and it was something to do with the medication, because when he'd started taking that, everything had changed. No voices, no blackouts, no headaches, but living in a world in which it was like he could only see in black and white any more. All the colors had gone. The medication killed everything. That gave him the security he needed to have some kind of normal life, sure. The drugs were necessary for the here and now, but, it was frustrating to imagine living like this for the rest of his life. Okay, if his future was a choice between living in a drug induced stupor, or embracing insanity, he would chose the drug induced stupor. But maybe now he was starting to understand the price.

Assuming he was right about the medication. It made sense, sure, but, he was guessing again. Guessing wasn't good enough, he had to know for certain. So, the answer was easy, all he had to do was stop taking the tablets again and see what happened. Yeah, really easy.

But that would have to be another day.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

**10: Mind Games**

* * *

After having spent pretty much the whole of the Monday hanging out with Anna, Damon proceeded to spend the whole of Tuesday hanging out with her as well. Wednesday pretty much had gone the same way, and he had definite plans to spend the whole of Thursday with her because that was the day of the party. He had to admit, it was turning out to be a great week.

Any immediate plans he'd had to spend some time chasing up information on Jake had largely been forgotten, having a social life was turning out to be far more important. At some point, yes, he did still intend to try and get to the library, go online and see if he could piece together anything at all from the notes he'd made. But there was plenty of time left to get to that, it was still only the second week of the summer holidays after all. Jake could wait.

Damon didn't feel like he would have been up to spending too much time studying in the library this week anyway, he'd had a headache pretty much constantly since the Monday evening. He'd never really been bothered by headaches in the past, this was something like the third in as many weeks, which was pretty unusual. Perversely they'd all happened after the exams had finished and he'd stopped studying, which had made no sense to him at all. This one wasn't particularly bad, but it was turning out to be persistent. Thankfully spending all his time with Anna was proving to be the perfect distraction from all of that.

One thing he had made a priority of getting done before the Thursday was to go buy some decent clothes for the party. For the first time in his life he wasn't going to have to go out looking like a twat, and that was a major achievement. Anna hadn't said anything about being embarrassed to be seen hanging out with him, but he knew she was just being polite. For the party at least he was going to look okay. Well, apart from his hair, he wasn't sure there was much he could do about that, not without raising too many suspicions anyway. The clothes, it was one pair of pants and a shirt, not exactly hard to keep hidden, and he didn't have to keep them hidden long, just long enough that his mother wouldn't make the connection as to the real reason he had bought them.

His mother knew about the party, Damon had taken the unusual step of actually telling her about it. Nick had been the one to push him into that act of stupidity. Only, it hadn't turned out to be quite as stupid an idea as it had seemed, because if telling his mother about the party had seemed unbelievable, what was even more unbelievable was that, after some minimal persuasion, she had actually consented to allow him to go. Of course, she knew it was at the house of that particularly respectable and upstanding Nick Smart, who she was sure would see that matters were conducted in a responsible manner. Damon had admittedly also assured her, somewhat untruthfully, that there was not supposed to be any alcohol there and that even if there was he promised not to touch it. His mother had no clue.

He smiled wickedly to himself. He wasn't all that interested in going to the party to drink alcohol. He got to hang out the whole afternoon and evening with Anna, maybe have sex, and maybe score some drugs. He smiled, if his mother had known about any of that, it would likely have freaked her out way more than thinking he might sneak an alcoholic drink.

* * *

It started off a fun party.

Extremely loud; well that was pretty much his experience of what any fun party was. Not good for his headache, but he was dosed up on ibuprofen, he could handle it. The ibuprofen was as good a reason as any that he was was trying to avoid drinking anything alcoholic, and he had been pretty successful with that. It would have been frustrating given the abundance of booze freely available, had he not found exactly what he had been hoping to find. The chocolate cupcakes. The chocolate cupcakes were way better than any booze.

But then things had taken a bad turn somewhere. Sure it was still loud, but a couple of people had turned up and were selling something a lot more offensive than cup cakes. That certainly hadn't been any part of Nick's plans for the party, but Damon couldn't see anyone stepping up to ask them to leave. It was fairly clear that anyone who tried to do that was going to be asking for trouble. They'd already scared off a few people, they certainly had Damon feeling uncomfortable, and that was starting to kill the general party atmosphere for him. He needed to go find Anna, she'd disappeared some time back to go find a bathroom, and wasn't back yet. Damon figured it was a good time to discuss options for where they could sneak off to for some more inappropriate fun.

Damon spotted Nick gesturing offensively at him from across the room. There was something weirdly wrong going on, Nick seemed preoccupied with something that was bothering him way more than the arrival of a couple of errant drug dealers. Damon had never quite seen Nick like this before, he'd never seen anyone with those confused thoughts before, ecstatically shitting bricks was the expression that came to mind. He concluded it was a good idea to walk over and make offensive gestures back.

Walking over turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated. He was starting to feel pretty dizzy, the walk across the room seemed to be like one of those dreams where you keep on walking forward, but never seem to get anywhere.

"Step into my office, Mr Jackson. We have matters of grave importance to discuss."

Damon found himself giggling somewhat not quite appropriately at the request. Sure Nick meant it as a joke, but, it should have been a smile joke, not a giggle joke. They stepped into Nick's dad's office, Nick closed and locked the door behind them. Anna was already there, she stood up as they came in.

"How many of the chocolate brownies have you enjoyed?" Nick asked, sounding like an over protective big brother.

"Three or, maybe five. I don't know, you got a problem?" Damon grinned clumsily.

"Those are space cakes, scooby snacks."

"I had worked that out, I'm not, er, thingy. Stupid."

"Shit, Damon, you're wasted. Anna, you have to get him out of here. Get him somewhere he can chill out. Just, anywhere away from here."

"What are you going to do?" Anna had asked.

"Hold out, not long. Police should be here in a few minutes." Nick was looking deadly serious.

"The police are on their way, how do you know?" Anna seemed unconvinced.

Damon giggled again. "Because Mr Nick Thingy, good boy here was the one that called them. He's got more balls than you think. More balls than even I thought, and I already knew how big they were because I've seen them. It isn't just an empty reputation. And I know I mentioned his balls, but honestly, you instantly start thinking of stuff that's kinky even for you, I mean, you doing, you know, while watching me and Nick, well, I don't know, just. I can't believe you're thinking that out loud."

Anna looked at him, a look somewhere between puzzlement and frustration; "How do you do that? How do you know that? How do you always fucking know what people are thinking?"

"Because some people's minds are like, as transparent as a hooker's underwear." Damon giggled.

"Okay. Right." Nick interrupted. "Anna, take him out the back way. Go now, don't stop. You guys don't need to be found here."

Anna hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

"Get caught. But don't worry about it, Damon might be stoned out of his head, but he's right, it was me that called the police. I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing. It's you guys who need to take care, and move. And you're running out of time."

Damon allowed Anna to help him to his feet and lead him to the door out into the garden. He tried to clear his mind. He was finding it difficult to think logically, each thought seemed to link into the next with wild improbability, almost as if he were dreaming. He was completely fucked off with the bastards who had screwed up the party and forced him to depart like this. He had to be rational, just for a few moments. He heard Nick exit back to the party, locking the office behind him as he left. The garden door seemed more of a challenge, it seemed to be changing shape. Damon made a dive for it when it appeared to be approximately the right size for him to get through.

The fresh air tasted beautiful. He could see the ground undulating beneath his feet. Just a little too late to leave he contemplated, he half wished Nick had caught him a brownie or three earlier. He must have looked comical, stumbling across the grass. They headed for the gate and along the alleyway, heading away from the main road. Anna seemed to be leading him in the direction of the town park. The bus station was vaguely in that direction. Not that he felt very confident of being allowed on a bus given the state he was in, even if they could find one.

They stumbled towards a set of traffic lights. The road was busy. Anna was getting agitated, she didn't figure they were far enough away yet. Damon glanced up at the lights. There had to be something he could do. He made them go red in all directions so that they could cross safely. That worked. Then once past he made them go green in all directions because drivers always hated red lights and it seemed like a polite thing to do.

He could hear some funny screeching noises from behind him and that set him off giggling again as they managed to stagger on.

They had intended to head for the bus station, which was vaguely in the direction of the park. Somehow they had ended up in the park. Anna was virtually having to drag Damon to keep him in a straight line. They neared a park bench and Damon collapsed onto it. Reality was beginning to rotate around him and he was beginning to shiver, but not with cold.

"We can't stay here." Anna was trying to say to say, he wasn't sure whether he actually managed to acknowledge. It hardly mattered, he wasn't in any state to go on. He thought maybe he heard Anna say something about going to get him some strong coffee, but he wasn't sure of that either. He was fighting, desperately trying to keep himself conscious.

And failed.

* * *

He was swimming. Or was he running? He wasn't sure. How could he not be sure about something like that? Unless he was dreaming. Weird dream then. He was running, or maybe swimming for his life. His clothes were definitely wet, he felt he ought to be cold, but wasn't.

It was dark, definitely dark. Apart from the flashes of light. Flashlights. Someone was following him. Someone was chasing him. And gaining on him. He couldn't go any faster, he was trying, but he couldn't go any faster at all.

Headlights. It wasn't flashlights, it was headlights. It was a car following him, that was why he couldn't get away, couldn't go fast enough. He tried going down instead. Down, down what? He had no clue what he was going down. Down stairs, or diving down deeper into the water, or clambering down through caves deeper into the earth. Just down. Only, the car was somehow still following him. He didn't stand a chance.

Down and down, deeper and deeper. Nearer and nearer to getting caught. Then he felt the burning, the flames surrounding him, the darkness. He fell, he was picked up, thrown into the back of the car. Paralyzed, unable to move, unable to see anything but the swirling blackness that engulfed him. Powerless, as the car drove deeper and deeper still into the flames.

Closer, the car stopped, the door opened.

Closer, someone tried to pull him out from the back seat.

He struggled, he fought, he gripped tightly to the door of the car as someone tried to drag him bodily away. They were shaking him, trying to loosen his grip on the door. He held on, he was not about to let them kill him, let them sacrifice him to the flames. Then they were beating and kicking and smashing at his hands, he could feel the bones breaking, his hold on the door became more fragile. Finally, frightened of his fingers breaking off, he let go, and fell.

Downwards, falling, falling through emptiness. He shouted, he screamed. If anyone did hear then they ignored him. He pleaded, but there was nobody to plead with. He was alone, totally alone.

He pleaded for help, but no help came. He pleaded to find the way out, but there was no way out.

He pleaded to wake up, but he knew this was no dream.

* * *

He came to still feeling wet. His head had cleared considerably, he still felt a bit nauseous, but that wasn't any effect of the chocolate brownies or the alcohol. He tried taking a deep breath, that worked okay, so probably he hadn't gotten any water in his lungs. He couldn't much trust what he remembered though, there may never have been any water. The dampness he felt was probably entirely due to the fact he was sweating profusely. His clothes had been removed, so he couldn't check them for signs of having been wet, he was wearing a loose fitting hospital gown. His hands were definitely bruised, but fortunately nothing had been broken. There really was very little evidence to corroborate anything of the jumbled and confused memories of what had happened to him after leaving the party. It couldn't have been a dream, he was sure it hadn't been a dream. And cannabinoids might alter perception or disrupt linear memory, but they weren't typically hallucinogenic. Something had happened, he just wasn't sure what.

Hospital gown. He was lying on a small bed, thin mattress, not so comfortable. It was dark inside the room, the curtains were still closed, but he could see light streaming in through the cracks. From where the light caught it he could see the bed was constructed from featureless aluminum tubing. His muscles were aching, he tried to stretch but it hurt too much. He rolled over and tried to wake himself up properly. It hardly seemed worth it. Hospital gown, hospital bed. Not therefore beyond the bounds of logic to consider he might be in a hospital. He figured he should probably try and call for a nurse, at least try. If only he had the energy.

So, he had to figure his parents were waiting in a waiting room somewhere nearby, assuming they knew he was there. And they would be so totally freaked out and angry with him about what he had done that they would likely keep him chained up in his bedroom until he was at least eighteen. Or they didn't know. And right now they would be in a complete panic, and when they did find him then they would be so angry that being chained up in his bedroom for the next two years would seem like the easy option. It wasn't even his fault. Yeah right, like they would believe that. He wondered if he could claim political asylum, stay in the hospital for the next two years for his own safety.

As he started to explore the consequences he found his heart sinking rapidly; none of the consequences were exactly looking good. So, if he didn't want to piss himself off any more than he needed, he had to get back to thinking about what had actually happened and where he was. Or get back to sleep. He wasn't exactly sure he was totally awake as it was.

* * *

There was a sound as the door closed. He awoke more abruptly this time, and feeling a lot more alert. He must have drifted back off to sleep. He had no clue how long for, but then he hadn't really had much idea how long he had been asleep the last time. Or how much longer he would have slept this time had it not been for the noise of the door closing.

The door had closed, someone had been in the room. The curtains had been opened, it was light in there. Nothing much to see outside, frosted glass. Maybe brickwork, a wall opposite, a narrow band of sky. The room wasn't on the bottom floor of the building, and it wasn't on the top, that was about the only conclusion he could get from that with any certainty.

He could also see a table next to the bed, that must have been there the whole time. On the table there was a tray with a covered plate on. That was definitely new. Feeding time. A meal of some description. He sat up and tried to motivate himself to get out of bed. Now, in a hospital room he would have expected to eat in bed, some kind of bed tray. This room didn't quite work like that. There was a table, and a chair. He would have to sit in the chair to eat. Somehow that didn't seem to add up. And what was it with this being a private room anyway? His dad's new job was good, but no way could they afford the cost of this kind of treatment. He should have been in a ward with all the other common oiks.

He sat down in the chair and uncovered the plate of, well, whatever it was. He wasn't sure close inspection was going to make it much clearer, and it might just make it look even less appetizing. Now this was much more in keeping with the level of health care he expected. Salmonella stew with a side of botulism. It was also all he was likely to be getting, so reluctantly he ate it. It didn't taste as bad as it looked. Actually, it didn't taste of anything much at all. A hint of boiled cabbage maybe.

Ideas of exploring the room quickly left his thoughts. Other than the bed, the table, the chair, the window and the door there was nothing. High ceiling, not a particularly modern facility. Not much like his idea of a normal hospital room either. More reminiscent of his idea of a mental hospital. Bemused by his own paranoia he figured he would just stick his head outside the door and see what was outside the room.

The door was locked. So was the window.

This was wrong, this was all wrong. He sat down on the bed, shivering. A wave of tiredness coming over him. None of this made sense. The silence was disquieting.

Damon blinked. He was sweating. He was in a kitchen and the curtains were closed.

'Jake?'

The guy didn't respond.

'Jake come on, you can hear me, I know you can hear me, talk to me!'

There was still no response.

Damon blinked, and he was back in his hospital room. Silence for over a week, and then visions of Jake again. Always fucking crap timing, but there was nothing he could do about that whole deal right now. He had reached the limit of information intake that was possible under the circumstances. He had to think, had to focus, and was failing miserably.

* * *

He awoke again. How long this time? Still light out. Was it even the same day?

The tray and plate were gone. Someone had been in to clear them while he had been asleep. Apart from that the room was unchanged. No, not quite. There was now a bucket in the corner. What the hell was that for? It was empty. And the door was still locked.

He turned the chair so it was facing the door and sat down. He wasn't going to sleep, not again. He would stay awake, wait for whoever was bringing the food. And then... well, he had no clue what then. But at least he could ask what was going on.

He sat and waited. And waited. No one came. He paced around the room a little, he lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He sat back in the chair, watching the door. He listened at the door, trying to hear if there was any movement out there, but he couldn't hear a thing. He sat in the chair, waiting. Maybe they weren't coming back to feed him again. No, that made no sense. They had fed him once, they would feed him again. But they would do so on their schedule, not his. And had to let him out of the room at some point, if only to let him go to the toilet, they couldn't expect him not to go to the toilet.

"You cannot be serious. You cannot fucking be serious." He shouted out loud. He'd just worked out the purpose of the bucket.

He wished he hadn't even though about it, because now he needed to go pee. And that meant peeing in the bucket. And that... that was wrong. Mental hospitals didn't do that. Even most prisons didn't do that any more. This wasn't a hospital or a prison. This wasn't anything official at all. This was not good. This was not good at all.

He'd been at the party. Nick had called the police, but Damon was the one who had made a run for it. Had they followed him thinking he'd been the one responsible? It didn't make sense, for a start he's escaped before the police turned up, no one could have followed him. And if they'd got to Nick, Nick would have owned up, Damon was sure of that. Nick had been protecting him by getting him away from the party. Damon had seen what Nick was thinking about in the office back there, he knew for sure that Nick would have done just about anything to protect him. Anyway, a couple of idiots who were dealing pills at a kids party were going to be minor league villains at best, the worst that would have happened if he'd crossed them was that they'd have dragged him into a side street to beat him up and threaten him a bit.

No, that whole line of reasoning was nuts. This was too professional. This was an interrogation, screwing with his sleep schedule was a disorientation tactic. This was more like the bleeding mafia. No way did this have anything to do with Nick's party. This had to be something else, but what else? What the hell was this charade all about?

And he really needed to pee. He tried to remember what he could about prisoner interrogation techniques he'd seen on TV. Next time there might not be a bucket. Might as well make the best of it. It was pretty difficult to pee wearing the gown that went down to his knees and was only open at the back. Even school camp had been more civilized than this. It also occurred to him, as he stood there with his gown hitched up, trying to hit the bucket and not catch too much spray, that it would make sense that they would have him under surveillance. He could look for the camera, that would give him something to do for a while.

It didn't take long. The room was so nearly empty that there weren't many places something like that could be concealed. But there was a smoke detector mounted on the ceiling, and it was wired up, and there was nothing else was likely. He waved at it. Let them knew he knew. Play the game. Only, he wasn't sure this was a game he exactly wanted to be playing. Whatever this was about, these people were very, very serious.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he had sat there waiting. It was getting dark. He tried the light switch but nothing happened. He looked up at the bulb hanging from the ceiling, blackened, broken. That wasn't going to be any help. Not much he could do. He lay back down on the bed. Getting hungry again, but he would have to wait. This was not his game. This was insane, this was totally fucking insane. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. He couldn't relax. He stood up again and started pacing the room.

Damon blinked. He was in his bedroom, watching TV. He blinked again, he was back in the darkness.

Visions again. Frustratingly brief visions. Two in a day... or had it been two days, he actually wasn't sure any more. Anyway, both visions of Jake, that was kind of good. At least it wasn't visions of people being abducted again, that would have been too depressing to think about while he was stuck in what amounted to a prison cell.

Abducted.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, fucking, fucking, shit.

This was all kind of totally the wrong way round. His parents weren't in some adjoining waiting room, he'd given up on that idea hours ago. Now he knew. They were at home. His mother was probably under heavy sedation for shock, and the newspaper headline on all the front pages likely had that picture of him taken for the school biology prize two years ago where he looked like a total prat. Only this time the caption would be listing him as missing, as victim number eleven. That was all he was now, another victim. He tried to joke with himself that at least he would find out what had happened to the other ten, but he couldn't make it feel funny. He curled up, sat on the floor in the corner of the room and quietly began to panic.

* * *

The floor was stone. Not the same floor, different room. Colder. He awoke sat propped up against a metal pipe that seemed to be concreted into the floor by the brick wall. Handcuffed, handcuffed around the pipe. He wasn't going anywhere. And not sure where there was to go, he was unable to see, there was some kind of hood over his head again. Unable to speak, his mouth taped up. But he could sense there was someone in the room with him.

"Start record. Saturday, 14:00 hours. Subject eleven, experiment one. What is it about you that is so different?"

With his mouth taped, Damon couldn't reply, he could only listen.

"No, I don't expect you to know, I don't expect you to answer.

"So in your silence tell me anyway, what defines your fitness to survive? Are you even meant to survive? I'm starting to question that.

"You are fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, and I can't find the difference. If your right to survive is greater than mine, I don't see it.

"I will prick you, and you will bleed, I will poison you, and you will die. And what will I have learned? Nothing again. Another life wasted. Compassion, not particularly, I can't say I enjoy the waste of your life, or my time.

"No, if you do die, it will be because you were not fit to live, but my objective here is not to kill you. Really, I very much want you to live. But if you expect to live then you have to show me why. What advantage is it you offer that makes you worthy of survival. I try, I push, I take you to the edge, where life and death are finely balanced, still you show me nothing. You, none of you, have shown me any strength that stakes your claim to be superior. And so I'm very much afraid you will die exactly as the others did. For no good reason other than that you failed to live.

"I wish I could tell you what I was looking for, beyond a deeper understanding of my own mortality. I want to see the future, I want to see what hope the human race can have in all our tomorrows. And I am searching for that truth. Searching in genetic patterns, and searching in you.

"So this is the first little game we will play."

Damon heard a sudden, sharp, explosive sound, louder than anything he had ever heard before. In his momentary shock he had instinctively try to launch himself away from the direction that the noise had come from, badly straining the muscles in his shoulders as he reached the limit of how far he could move away from the pipe he was chained to, and his hands bleeding as the handcuffs had torn into them with the force.

As he came disjointedly back to his senses, he noted that the extent of his reaction had satisfied his captor.

"Most people have only ever heard a gun fired on television, or in the movies. There they always have to balance the sound, it gets toned down. Significantly toned down, so much so that very few people realize just how loud a real gun shot is. Around 155 decibels typically. To put that in context, a pneumatic drill is about 100 decibels, and an ambulance siren comes in at around 120. Even a jet engine is only about 140 decibels.

"And you, as loud you may shout, won't scratch past 100 decibels. So you may scream if you wish, feel free. No one will hear. So how about we take that hood off?"

Damon blinked, his eyes were so used to the dark, and the light pointed at him so bright that it had seemed better with the hood on. The tape was pulled roughly from his mouth, but he remained silent, he could see there really was no point screaming. As his eyes adjusted he tried to look across, get a first glimpse at his captor, but the light was carefully positioned to ensure he wasn't going to see anything more than a silhouette against the glare.

"Stand up."

Damon remained sitting. He wasn't much sure what the defiance would achieve, but he saw no point in giving in so easily.

His captor raised the gun, and pointed. The range was point blank, he was quite likely to hit whatever he aimed for with some considerable accuracy. Damon didn't much like where the gun was pointed. And he could see the guy was very, very serious. Reluctantly, shakily, he pulled himself up to his feet.

The gun tracked his movements, then picked its target. Damon felt the panic start to rise. He could sense the cold deliberation, the calculation of his captor. The gun was not just there to scare him, this wasn't about taking pot shots in his general direction to try and loosen his tongue or anything like that. The gun was aimed where the bullet would take a chunk out of Damon's right ear. In this so called game he was expected to get hurt. Badly hurt.

He had to stay calm. Stay in control. Stay rational. Think this through. Damon's mind focussed on the trigger, he figured his one chance was to move sideways at the exact right moment, it only needed to be a few millimeters, but he needed to do it fast enough to avoid the bullet. His advantage was that he didn't have to wait for the bullet to actually be fired, he could start moving the moment his captor consciously decided to pull the trigger. He just had no clue if that would give him the extra time he needed to keep his ear.

He tried to remain motionless. Moving now would just throw the guy's aim, and he might lose more than just an ear. He kept his mind focussed on the finger tightening on the trigger, a minute, two minutes, and then sensing a fraction of a moment before the trigger was pulled he twisted himself violently sideways. The bullet missed by little more than a hair's breadth. Damon struggled to catch his breath, struggled to stop himself screaming out in terror. He was trying desperately to stay dignified, trying to look defiant, and failing miserably. His only consolation was that he was just about able to avoid pissing himself. And there was no respite, the the gun was now pointing at the third finger on his left hand where it was chained to the pipe. That was going to be way harder to avoid.

He blinked. Not fucking now, this was not the time. He could see... Okay, this was more than weird, this time he could see himself chained up against the wall, with his eyes closed having a vision. No, that wasn't what he could see, that was what Jake could see. He was having a vision of Jake having a vision of him. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so totally fucked up a situation.

This was all getting too much, he couldn't think straight any more, his nerves were getting the better of him and he was staring to shake. He couldn't afford to do that, not if he wanted to keep all his fingers. He had to focus, had to watch the gun. Damon wrenched his hand away abruptly, moments before a second bullet flashed past him.

'Help me. Please for God's sake, help me.'

He knew Jake could see him, knew Jake could hear him. But what was the guy doing? Jake just looked bewildered, looked like he thought he was going out of his fucking mind. What fucking right did Jake have to think his situation was fucked up? He wasn't the one who was having a fucking gun fired at him by a fucking manic. Couldn't the guy see there was something very fucking wrong with what was happening here?

Damon was beyond the point of being able to function, he'd lost it. There was too much happening at once. He'd badly wrenched his wrist pulling his hand away that last time, and he was still bleeding from the cuts where the handcuffs were digging in to his wrists. And now Jake was just staring blankly at him like he was some fucking freak show entertainment.

Almost too late he sensed the trigger being pulled again, he slammed himself sideways, tearing his knuckles badly across the rough brick wall behind the pipe he was chained to. His hands were a bloodied mess, but that was nothing compared to  
the mess he would have been in if hadn't done that. He couldn't take any more of this.

Damon was sobbing, he couldn't breathe properly. He was cowering against the wall. And now his captor had stepped forward and was pressing the gun against his forehead, and this time Damon was unable to stop his bladder muscles relaxing. So much for faking dignity.

"Unscathed. Now that is extraordinary. The floor is usually flowing with blood by this point, but right now it is just flowing with, well, it seems I might have scared you a little.

"I'll leave you alone to think about it for a while. But I am impressed. Perhaps I really have finally found something. I'll definitely have to revisit this game, next test subject."

Damon slumped to the ground. The floor was indeed wet, but he was beyond caring. He tried to close his eyes and look for Jake. Jake was still there, but, it was like he was a long way away off in the distance. Too far away to see or hear. Anyway, Jake was the least of his problems. Damon tried to think rationally, which wasn't so easy when he was still shaking with fear.

If he could get some clue where he was. If he could just stay awake when whoever it was came with the food, maybe he could tackle that person and get past. Then if he could somehow get outside, he could just run and run and run. Alright it was stupid. Those were just stupid, desperate ideas. But that was all he had left, stupid desperation. He was fucking helpless.

* * *

Damon opened his eyes. Back in the room. He was back in the room. It was light, food had been left on the table while he had been asleep, and the bucket had been emptied. He stumbled out of bed and over to the door, it was locked again. His hands were bandaged where they had been bleeding. He was wearing a clean gown. There was a plate of food on the table.

A game. The bastard had called it a game. Right, the whole thing was some kind of game. Some kind of sick, twisted, fucked up mind game, and Damon was going to be tortured like that until he died. Okay, he'd worked that out. His captor was fucking nuts, a total sociopath. The question was, how long did Damon have left? And as his captor had already mentioned something about planning games for subject twelve, that didn't exactly give Damon much reassurance.

He paced agitatedly around the room for a few moments before starting to feel light headed. He looked across at the covered plate on the table, then half reluctantly sat down and ate, the same tasteless food as before. For a moment he'd considered throwing it on the floor, he had no interest in co-operating with the bastard. But then, his captor wasn't exactly likely to care at all whether he ate it or not, and if Damon expected to stand a chance in hell of escaping he needed energy. He wasn't ready to give up just yet, so he ate. He was too hungry to object to the taste. Anyway, He could still taste the salmon and scrambled eggs he'd had for breakfast. No, he hadn't had them for breakfast. Jake had.

He could still sense Jake, out there somewhere. That was different, that hadn't happened before. Usually when the visions ended there was a clear break, they stopped and Jake was gone. This was like a phone conversation and Jake hadn't ended the call properly, and Damon could still vaguely hear what was going on there at the other end. So did that mean if he shouted loud enough that Jake might be able to hear him still?

A fragment of an idea started to coalesce in Damon's mind. He finished the meal, it helped, and then threw the tray onto the floor. He wanted to start acting just a little unpredictably. See if he could turn the tables, see if he could start playing games with his captor. He wondered if he could find any way to sabotage the camera. He needed to have some control, some way of having a chance of being awake when his captor came to call. He sat up and started to investigate, the bed was floor standing, he wondered if he would be able to push it across put the table on top. Would that get him close enough to reach the camera? Probably. And he certainly had some ideas for putting the camera out of action. But that still didn't get him out of there. He had a long way to go before his plans became useful.

His first objective had to be contacting Jake.

* * *

Damon became vaguely aware that he'd been blindfolded. So, he'd been unconscious again. Or asleep, he wasn't sure which. If it was sleep then there had to be something wrong with him. He was managing to eat, the stuff he was eating might taste like crap, but it was something at least. This wasn't about hunger and energy levels, somehow he just couldn't seem to stay awake for more than an hour or two at a time however hard he tried. At least it had only seemed like a couple of hours, he couldn't be sure, he was having a lot of trouble keeping track of time. But he was sure of one thing, he certainly wasn't being subjected to sleep deprivation.

Waking up, regaining consciousness, whichever it was, he was finding it increasingly stressful. Every time it happened he found himself in a situation that was more fucked up than the last. It was almost to the point he was getting afraid to wake up again.

This time he was on the bed, he was fairly sure it was the same hospital bed thing. Tough to be sure when he couldn't see. He was chained to the bedpost by one ankle, his arms were free though. He was cold, no hospital gown on he noted, nothing on at all. And he could sense a presence in the room. The same presence he had felt the last time. His captor. Watching him claw his way back to consciousness, watching patiently. Waiting.

For now Damon figured he would ignore him, use the time to do something more useful, see how long it took the idiot to work out that he was already wide awake.

'Jake.'

Damon could sense Jake out there somewhere. Confused not really coming through clearly, but definitely out there. Damon had to contact him, somehow, whatever it took, he had to get through.

'Jake.'

Jake was ignoring him. Fine, he would just keep on and on calling until the guy bloody well paid attention.

'Jake.'

He could sense frustration. Right, let him be bloody frustrated. This was more important than anything Jake could possibly be frustrated by.

'Jake.'

Damon was in no hurry, he wasn't going anywhere. At least not until he fell asleep again, and that could be hours yet.

'Jake.'

Damon felt a cold hand on his shoulder and flinched.

'Jake.'

"That is the reflex response of someone who is indeed now awake." Damon's captor had worked it out. "Interesting. Have you been awake long?"

Damon remained silent. He had a more important task.

'Jake.'

It did seem to be working to some degree, he could sense Jake way more clearly now, the connection was definitely getting stronger. He was also starting to sense that Jake was in pain, and seemed to be angry about something.

"Alright. It is now Sunday, 10:00 hours. Subject eleven, experiment two. So, number eleven, I need something from you. A sample, for testing. There are three ways this can work. You can provide me with the sample, or I can have a go extracting it from you manually. If that fails I can extract it from you surgically. That would of course be more than a little painful as I couldn't allow painkillers, painkillers interfere with the experiments too much."

Damon felt an extreme unease come over him. He'd known his situation was bad, he hadn't quite anticipated how much worse it could become. The fear was bad enough, he wasn't anxious to discover how much pain he was capable of tolerating. The guy was completely cold and emotionless, and more than capable of carrying out his threats.

'Jake.' Damon became more insistent. He had to get through. Had to.

"I'll give you a minute or two to think about it. If you choose to remain silent then I'll assume that means you aren't going to comply."

Damon hesitated, he had to make a choice. The situation was bad enough already, much as the idea of cooperation disgusted him, there was no need to make things worse. If he had to die there was no sense in choosing the path of worst imaginable pain to get there. Plus, the longer he could hold on, the better his chances of getting through to Jake were. Not that he had much clue what to say if he did get through to Jake, but, he had to keep on trying.

'Jake.'

Damon addressed his captor. "What do I have to do?"

"Good. Some sense. I do so prefer this to be easy. Here." The guy pressed a small plastic screw top sample bottle into Damon's hand. "I'm going to go have a cup of coffee. An hour maybe. I expect to see that filled by the time I return."

Damon listened to the guy departing, the door close behind him. It wouldn't take an hour to come up with a sample.

'Jake.'

'Fuck off.' Jake shouted angrily back.

That was it, finally, contact. 'Jake.'

'Fuck off.' Jake had screamed it this time.

Damon was almost knocked backwards with the force of the scream. Jake was in pain, an intense, agonizing pain, far worse than anything Damon had ever experienced or even could have imagined. What the fuck was going on? Damon could also sense extreme irritation and frustration. Jake was upset with someone. Jake was upset with the disembodied voice of someone who was pissing him off and wouldn't leave him alone. Damon finally began to understand. Jake had absolutely no clue what was going on. Damon's attempts to talk to him had been freaking the living shit out of the guy. Damon had fucked it up totally. This was totally not the way to get somebody to help you.

He started babbling apologetically. 'Jake, look, Jake, sorry, I didn't realize what I was doing. I didn't mean to piss you off. I shouldn't have gone on at you like that. But I'm in trouble, and I desperately need help, and you're the only one who can hear me. I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry. So sorry.'

He couldn't think of anything more to say. He was pretty sure Jake had heard. But Jake had gone, completely gone, broken the link properly this time. All Damon could do now was wait, give Jake some space. Pray to God there would be a chance to try again, try and talk to him later when he'd calmed down. And what the hell was the deal with all that pain?

Reluctantly Damon tried to turn his attention to sorting out the sample. He wasn't in the mood, it wasn't going to be easy. But he had to get it done. He desperately needed to buy himself some time.

* * *

**11: Surrendering to Apotheosis**

* * *

Thursday, and Jake's parents were away for seven days. It was the longest they had ever gone away leaving him on his own. In the couple of months he had been aware of their plans, and the opportunity that presented him, his thoughts had swung between visions of wild, debaucherous parties, and other visions of having to clean vomit off the carpets after the party. No, someone else could make that mistake.

Jake now had a much more practical objective. As the days back from the camping trip had passed he had been getting more and more certain that something was very wrong with the medication. It worked, hell yes it worked. It just seemed to have a whole hidden agenda. It was stopping more than just the headaches, the voices, the blackouts. It dulled his senses, messed up his ability to sense what people were thinking, he'd lost his edge. He'd lost the spark of whatever it was that made him feel alive. At least that was what he suspected, but he didn't know for sure. Well, this was his chance to find out. An experiment. Today he had deliberately not taken his medication.

He'd considered making notes, writing things down, keeping a record of everything he was feeling and sensing. Maybe even setting up a video camera and recording the whole thing. Find out what he really got up to when he blacked out. But, tempting as those ideas were, having any kind of permanent record that might get found was a risk he just wasn't comfortable taking. He would just have to entrust everything to memory.

So he had listened to the front door close behind his parents on their way out, and then waited. He had gone to watch some TV, wanted to give them plenty of time to forget something and come back for it if they had to. He could watch the flight departures online, he could relax when he was sure they were really gone. When he was sure he was alone.

While he was waiting he set to work. He'd abandoned the idea of a party, but he figured he could still have some fun while they were gone. He picked a bottle of wine from the rack and opened it to let it stand. Set the table, put a nice steak in to marinate and chopped some vegetables to go with it. He even managed to dig out some candles for the place setting at the table. The appointed hour came and the flight was still on the ground. The minutes ticked by slowly as the delay extended to half an hour. Then he watched as the display refreshed, and the label read departed.

The steak took only a few minutes to grill, he lit the candles, finished his meal, drank the wine, and retired to the living room floor to eat ice cream from the container. All wearing nothing but a bow tie. He figured that by the end of the seven days the novelty of this would have worn off. But today at least it was a totally new experience and kind of neat.

He finished off the day watching a horror movie. Alone in the house, it probably wasn't a good idea. But then, no one had ever accused him of having much in the way of common sense. He had retired to bed locking his bedroom door, and leaving his bedside lamp on as he drifted off to sleep.

Jake glanced around, he was in some desolate concrete wilderness. Urban decay and squalor for as far as the eye could see in every direction. In the distance he could see the badly dressed geek in trouble, injured, helpless, lying on the ground next to a park bench. There were people all around him, they were ignoring him, acting as if they couldn't see him. Jake felt like screaming at them to take some notice.

Jake pushed his way through, it wasn't so easy as nobody would get out of his way, they just kept on about their mundane lives as if he wasn't actually there. In the distance he could see another figure, a dark figure headed towards the geeky guy who actually this time didn't look as badly dressed as usual now Jake could see him more clearly. The crowd were moving out of the dark figure's way, that pissed Jake off. Whose side were these people on? He tried, but nobody would help him. He shouted, pleaded with them, but they weren't listening.

He made it to the strange geek person and reached out a hand to help him up, shrugging off an intense wave of déjà vu that he really didn't have the time to think about, then they were up and running. Jake wanted so desperately to stop and talk to the guy he was helping, but they couldn't stop. They had a lead, they had a decent lead, but the dark figure was still on their tail.

They pushed on, running faster and faster. Jake's mind was racing, he had to find a way out. He couldn't be caught, he knew that they could not be caught. He looked back, should he stand and fight? No, they wouldn't stand a chance. He returned his attention to the direction he was running in, just in time. He stopped abruptly. Directly in front of him the path ended. Beyond was nothingness.

The dark figure came closer. Jake stepped backwards, getting perilously close to the nothingness. He wasn't sure which was the lesser of the two evils. The dark figure stopped and faced the geeky guy. Jake wasn't there any more, he was watching from a distance, the feeling of guilt for deserting the guy was tearing him apart, but there was no way back. He watched the dark figure approach, saw him standing over the unfortunate geek, then everything faded to black.

In every direction about him was nothingness. Black, absorbing, total nothingness. There was nobody left but him. And he felt alone. Totally alone. Falling. Falling into the fires beneath him.

He awoke shivering with fear.

* * *

Jake tried to stay lying in bed as long as he could. It was getting late in the morning, but he didn't particularly feel like he wanted to get up yet. He also had a splitting headache. He tried to remind himself that a headache was exactly what he was hoping to get, but t still pissed him off. And the nightmares were back. He hadn't ever really made the connection before, but the weird nightmares were very definitely a part of whatever it was that was wrong with him.

Time to put his safety precautions into effect, he couldn't afford to take any chances. The doors front and back were locked, the keys were out of the way. From what he had worked out he didn't exactly have much rational control over his actions while he was having one of the blackouts. At the same time, he couldn't believe that he would deliberately do anything dangerous. So his precautions were directed against accidental rather than intentional stupidity. His plan was that if he did black out he would be trapped in the house, and no one would ever find out. There was a minor risk involved, in case of fire he would be in the shit, but that was going to be a pretty minimal risk.

He grabbed a pair of underpants, wore them on his head, and descended the stairs to make himself some breakfast. Toast, cornflakes, salmon, scrambled eggs and coffee, he returned with it to his bedroom. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with the day. Was it even worth trying to do anything constructive? He flicked through some TV shows and picked out a couple to watch, he couldn't be bothered to do anything, but he didn't particularly want to get bored.

He didn't bother getting dressed and left the curtains closed. It was half way through the second show that he realized that he would be unable to sit around doing nothing all day, however bad he felt. He just couldn't stay still that long. And a second problem was becoming apparent, it was getting difficult to make out what was going on in the film when the soundtrack was being drowned out by a persistent murmuring in the background. He'd been off his medication for less than twenty-four hours and already things were back to being messed up. The experiment did seem to be working.

But there were issues. For a start Jake was getting a little concerned that he might have come off the medication too quickly. The headaches were back with a vengeance, the voices were louder than he remembered from before. Even when things had been at their worst he wasn't sure he'd felt as messed up as he did right now. Getting through this was going to be a lot more tough than he had anticipated.

On top of that, he wasn't much sure what he was going to achieve any more. Even if he was feeling more alive, between the headaches and the voices there wasn't going to be any way that he could ever really appreciate or enjoy any of that. Some trade off. He lay back on the bed, it was really making his head hurt thinking about it.

Stop this stupidity, he told himself, he had proven his point. There was no longer any need to subject himself to the pain, to the confusion. He was certain now that even if the drugs were suppressing something more than the voices, he was just going to have to accept that. He couldn't live like this.

But something held him back. Something stopped him from ending the experiment. There was something buried deeply in his mind, driving him to continue. He knew he couldn't give up now even if he wanted to. There was something more to learn, he was certain of that.

* * *

He tried playing video games, that kind of worked for a while, got him through the rest of the morning at least. He was sweating hot, he had the windows open, there was a strong breeze, but it wasn't helping much.

He finished lunch and headed to the toilet. He went to wash his hands after he was done peeing and the stream of cold water coming from the tap felt so refreshing. He tried sticking his head under there and it felt so soothing, like the cold water was taking the heat out of his headache. Jake glanced across at the bath tub, an idea forming. He started a cold bath running and raced down to the freezer in the garage to get himself a bucket of ice. Then he raced back and dumped the ice in the now nearly full bath tub, pulled off the very few clothes he was wearing, and slid into the icy water. He struggled to breathe, gasping at the cold, but it felt incredible. Maybe the pain of the cold just overwhelmed the pain of the headache, but it worked. For the first time in two days, floating in that icy water, he felt half relaxed.

The relaxation he noticed had also given him a clarity of perception that was quite fantastic. So much feeling, so much life, every sensation had an edge to it that was beyond description. The twisted mess that he was starting to figure definitely had to be the cold turkey withdrawal symptoms from coming off his medication was a real contradiction of pain and ecstasy.

Jake blinked, there was a dark figure pointing a gun at him. He looked around to check, but he was still sat floating in the icy water. Except he could see a gun pointed at him. Well, half see, in a dream like way, even though he was wide awake. He could see the badly dressed geek, only this time dressed in what looked like a white medical gown, it was the same guy though, he was sure of that. The guy was chained to the wall, and the other one, the dark figure, was randomly firing the gun in the geek guy's direction. And the geek guy was terrified, screaming, pleading for help. Jake could feel the fear, fear beyond anything he could have imagined in his wildest nightmares. And then he blinked and it was gone. He was alone again, and all was silent. Nightmares, it was the same two people from the nightmare he'd had the night before, only this time he was dreaming about them and he wasn't asleep. Neurological imbalance? Fucking weird was what it was.

So much for peaceful relaxation in the bath. Jake tried to calm down, he was nervous and a little jumpy still. Watching the horror movie the night before had been a really bad idea.

He noted the water wasn't so cold as it had been and he was starting to get the headache coming back. He decided to make the most of what was left of the respite he had earned and use it to enjoy a good evening meal. He'd learned something though, if the headache got too bad again, he knew there was always more ice in the garage.

* * *

Evening passed and Jake figured he had to call it a day, at least try and get some sleep. He stood under a cold shower for a time but he knew that wasn't any way he could spend the night, much as he wanted to, he wasn't that stupid. He lay on the bed and tried to settle, still sweating profusely. It was the evening, it couldn't still be this hot. He stumbled to the thermostat in the hall, if he believed what that was telling him then it was actually pleasantly cool in there. Didn't fucking feel it. Didn't make sense. He went back to bed. Couldn't get comfortable, as soon as he lay down his head started throbbing again. He got up, paced the room for a few minutes before sinking down and curling up in the corner. Sitting against the cold metal radiator. It was cold, he could feel it was cold. So why the hell was he still burning up?

It wasn't physical heat, it was his mind burning. The pain was too intense, he could feel tears in his eyes. He was normally a fighter, but for once he gracefully accepted solace in oblivion, and he passed out.

* * *

Jake woke up still sat in the corner, still exhausted. He wasn't sure how much being unconscious from the pain counted as sleep, he suspected not much at all. The headache was also getting very much worse, if that were possible. He dragged himself up and headed for a cold shower, it helped some, but not as much as he had hoped, not as much as it had the day before.

He slowly fought his way through the first few hours of the morning, but it was getting difficult. The house was warm, not really overly hot, but he was really beginning to sweat. It was even starting to get hard to complete basic tasks like going to the toilet. He felt like crying. He felt so alive, and that was the bitch. That was the trade off. He could have life and insanity or be a sane drugged up zombie, but he could never have both. Live a half life, or not live. That was the fucking choice that defined his future. He no longer had a future. He was frightened. He could hear the voices, or one of them at least, saying his name, over and over and over again. He shouted at it to fuck off, screamed at it to fuck off.

He felt weak, he tried to swing round and sit up on the edge of the bed. He only just managed it, he sat with his head resting on his knees.

'Jake, Jake, sorry... didn't mean to... shouldn't have... Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.'

There was silence. He tried to listen through his headache, but could hear nothing more. He sat, almost stunned. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting in the silence. Immobile, he didn't have the energy to move, didn't have the rationality to think. Listening to the silence. Why the fuck would a disembodied voice apologize to him? And why would it then go silent, unless somehow it understood that keeping up its senseless chatter was freaking him out, and it genuinely was sorry for that? Unless...

Unless he wasn't mad, and the voice was real.

It made sense.

It wasn't his neurological imbalance that caused him to think he was hearing things. He'd been looking at the problem from totally the wrong angle. The voice had to belong to some rational, thinking, individual. How in hell had it taken him this long to work out something so bleeding obvious?

He wasn't mad. Someone was just trying to talk to him, trying to be polite, okay not doing a great job of either, but the guy was trying. Jake felt his mind slipping out of phase. This was all happening too quickly. And he still had a headache.

He was hungry, it was well past lunch time. But he was too weak to endure the effort of preparing himself a meal. It was absolute stupidity, the bottle of tablets lay by the bed, he could escape so easily.

The driving, all consuming instinct held him back. He couldn't understand why, he just knew he couldn't give up now. He wasn't mad, it was something else. And he wanted to understand, so desperately wanted to understand.

He lay back down on the bed. Despite the pain, despite the hell, he felt insanely alive. His senses had an edge to them that had been missing in his drug induced sanity. Too alive, reality tearing into his senses. As if any natural ability he had to shut off the flow of information from the outside world had been lost and the bombardment was coming faster than he could cope with. Too much reality, too quickly, but with no way to shut it off. The drugs had been restricting the flow, but they were only a short term cure for the symptoms. He had to understand the problem.

His mind was screaming in agony. The headache had never been this bad before. It felt as if his brain was on fire, burning, screaming out, and nobody was listening. He needed a cold drink.

He tried to stand up, he felt unsteady. At least he could see. Still no sign of the voices either, but that made sense now, those were external, not internal. He took a few steps towards the door and tried to reach for the handle. His arm froze half way. He pulled it away and tried again. Once more it became involuntarily paralyzed before the action was completed. He tried to force it to comply, he couldn't move it at all. He switched his attack and lashed out with his right hand. It refused to budge, hanging limply by his side. He felt his head twisting inside, he couldn't even screw up his face in agony. The pain was building, as if his mind was bound up in a head that was too small for it, constricting, squeezing, tightening round his very sentient existence. He was completely paralyzed, no motive ability at all, his body had seized up. The burning, scorching agony tore into him relentlessly. He tried to fight. Trying to push through the darkness that bound him, that was cutting in to him, trying to break out. It felt like a loosing battle, the pressure bearing down on him smothering him, suffocating him, he couldn't give in. He could not give in.

He stood, he faced it, screamed out his defiance. His mind became a fist, fighting back. Pounding and pounding against the darkness. Too late, he could feel something splintering, breaking apart. He felt a sudden calm. But not a good calm, more like the calm before the storm.

Then he felt his head explode.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**12: Making Contact**

* * *

Jake opened his eyes, confused, momentarily uncertain what was going on. He wasn't even sure where he was. On a bed. Hospital again? He had some vague recollection of his head exploding, so maybe this was the morgue and he was mostly dead. Or hospital. Although it would have taken a bloody good surgeon to have pieced his head back together from all the bits it must have been blown into.

"I know this will sound like a stupid question, but humor me, am I dead yet?" He asked out loud. There was no response.

Okay, dead. He had to be dead.

Dead and starving, dead people got hungry? That made no sense. None of this made sense. He glanced around to try and work out where he really was. Still in his bedroom. The clock on the desk was saying 7:15 PM, so that made it a little after 8:30 PM. No bloody wonder he was hungry, gone 8:30 PM and he hadn't even had lunch yet. He tried to stand, but immediately found himself so light headed that he fell and he had to more slowly try to pick himself up off the floor. Despite being light headed his head felt so clear, his senses so alert. Who would have guessed it that death could feel so alive. He couldn't much remember a time when he had felt this alive even when he was alive. So alive that if he wasn't so totally sure he was dead, he really might have started to doubted it.

His eyes had pulled into focus. The room looked different. He couldn't work out what it was about it that had changed, nothing had changed. It just looked different. More clarity, more there. He was seeing and taking in more of what he could see than he had before. His mind had grappled with this enhanced perception of the surrounding room, as his memories surrendered to recollection.

It was all over. No more headache, no voices, just clarity and silence. He stood motionless momentarily, then holding onto the wall to steady himself, he decided to go fix himself a lot to eat.

* * *

Cold bratwurst, pickle, fruit and slices of unbuttered bread. He conceded it was a strange combination, but it fulfilled the most important requirement; it didn't need preparing and he could shove it in his mouth within seconds of reaching the kitchen. He washed it down with milk from the carton. Then started scanning the refrigerator for some longer term options, settling on a pizza. And there was some extra sausage, cheese, green chopped stuff that he suspected might be peppers, he decided to pull it all out and he could really make the pizza into something special. Or something kind of weird. But he was still so hungry that weirdness really wasn't going to hold him back much from enjoying it.

The great thing about microwave pizza was that took only minutes to heat up. Barely time to clear the table, light a candle, find a pizza cutter, grab a plate, and pour a glass of wine before the aroma of melted cheese had him opening the microwave and poking the pizza to see if it was done. He transferred it gingerly to the table to avoid burning his hands, then sat facing it in anticipation of the feast. It was kind of overloaded, and the extra cheese had melted over the edge of the crust, and the green stuff was looking funny and uneven, and he didn't care because it smelt great. And looked bloody silly. He started to laugh, loudly, inappropriately, disconnectedly, hysterically. And somehow that became mixed up with crying, and sobbing, and tears. Tears mixed with laughter. Laughter mixed with relief.

It felt like the long and dark nightmare was over. Well, almost over. There remained one significant unanswered question.

* * *

Jake sat down in the comfy chair. He wasn't quite sure what he needed to do. He closed his eyes, and tried to listen. There was nothing but silence. Same as there had been all day. Not hearing things. Now he wanted to hear things. No bleeding pleasing some people he told himself. He tried to listen, further and further, reaching into the silence, and there it was, just on the edge of perception... a murmuring in the background,

He snapped out of it and opened his eyes. There was silence again. This was stupid, tempting fate. He was rid of the voices and he wanted it to stay that way. He jumped out of the chair and went back into the kitchen to fix himself some more coffee. He'd stopped listening, and the voices had gone again. There had to be a trick to it. He poured the coffee and hurried back to the living room, sitting once more in the comfy chair.

He closed his eyes, reached out. Slowly, just to the point he could hear whispers in the distance, then pulled away abruptly, back to the silence. Then more quickly, hearing whispers getting louder, then backing away until the whispers had gradually faded into silence. Jake smiled. He wasn't much sure what he was doing, but whatever it was, he was in control, and that had to be good.

He brought the murmuring back until it was loud enough that it sounded like conversations going on at other tables in a restaurant. He wasn't really sure if that was enough, but he figured it as good a starting point as any. He called out across the murmuring...

'Hello. Is there anybody can hear me? Is there anybody out there?'

He wasn't entirely sure if he was expecting a reply or not. Wasn't honestly sure if he was hoping for an answer or not. He wasn't sure how long to go on trying to listen. This was nuts. He'd been hearing things. How could any of that possibly be real? And yet, somehow in his insanity he had managed to convince himself it was all real.

He waited. Called again. Waited. Nothing. One more minute and I'm giving up, he told himself.

'Jake, you there?'

'Yes.' He wasn't sure what else to say.

'Jake. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. I was just trying to talk to you, I just, didn't know what I was going to do if you didn't answer.'

Jake opened his eyes, kind of. Really they were still closed, but somehow he could see as if he'd just opened them. He wasn't exactly sure he liked what he could see. 'Where is this?'

'You can see it?'

'I see a room, in darkness, empty, cold. I see someone, I think, sitting in the corner. Hurt, bleeding, scared, terrified.'

'Where are you standing?' The figure mouthed weakly, silently,

'In front of you, just to the left. Sitting now.' Jake sank to the floor, sitting opposite the huddled figure. Half staring in horror, half not wanting to look. The figure managed to open its eyes and stare tiredly back, half seeing.

'What's the, what time is it? What day is it?'

'Friday. It's Friday evening, er, 9:17 PM or something.'

'Barely more than a day. Is that all? Feels like I was here longer than that. I thought, Saturday afternoon maybe. I think he doesn't want me knowing. Think that's all part of the games.'

'What games, what, what's happening here?'

'I need help. He's going to kill me.' The guy barely seemed able to keep his eyes open.

Jake blinked, he was, half back home, half still in the darkness of the other place. He was losing the connection. 'Wake up, damn it, stay with me. Come on.'

The figure stirred and seemed to be fighting sleep. A moment later he was gone.

Jake launched himself to his feet and was running to the kitchen, turning on the TV, flicking quickly through, past, back, on to the news channel. He stared into the picture starting back at him. The same eyes, the same face. The face of victim number eleven. The face of Damon Jackson.

* * *

**13: Fighting Back**

* * *

The awareness returned. It was like, vaguely like the presence he felt when someone entered a room. But not physically, it was different, like the presence had a direction it was coming from and he could see that this presence wasn't coming from the direction of the room. It was coming from somewhere else, the where else was the part he was a bit clueless about. But there would be time to explore those philosophical concepts later. He quickly wound up the volume on the murmuring in his subconscious and called out. He was impressed how instinctive the control was becoming as little as he had been trying this.

'Damon, you out there?' Jake blinked. He felt a chill, oppression swirling in around him. 'This doesn't look so good.' He was trying to be jokey, and very quickly realized that levity really wasn't much appropriate to the situation. Things were bad.

'Cold. Scared.' Damon was huddled, crouched against the rusted iron wall of an iron tank, half submerged in the filthy brown water. Sealed in on all sides, there was barely any light to see by. Handcuffed and chained to, chained to something under the water, Jake couldn't see what. Damon was traumatized, struggling to get the words out. He only looked half aware of anything.

'What the hell are they doing to you?'

'Cold. Help me.'

'I want to help. I need to know... I need to know where you are.'

'Don't know. Dark. Cold.'

Jake shivered. He wasn't there, he was sitting in a warm, safe, suburban living room armchair. But he could feel the cold, the wet, the hopelessness. The water level was rising slowly.

'You have to focus, Damon, you have to talk to me.'

'Jake? You here?'

'It's Jake. I'm not here. I don't know where here is.'

'You can see it?''

'I'm not here. I can only see what you can see.'

'I don't like this game. Nothing I can do.' Damon was sobbing, not hysterically, more quiet, subdued, like someone defeated.

Jake was definitely worried about the guy's current mental state. He wasn't exactly trained in trauma counseling. How do you deal with shit like this? 'I don't know what I can do.' He wasn't sure the honest approach was the most helpful, but, it was all he had.

'What day is it, what time?' Damon's sobbing had subsided a little. The water had risen up to his chest, but he seemed less aware of it.

'Saturday morning. 11:23 AM.'

'Saturday,' Damon seemed to grasp on to the information, held it close to himself, as if it helped give him strength. 'He said it was Monday. He doesn't want me knowing when it is. He's trying to screw with my mind'

'Who's 'he'?'

'Don't know. Couldn't see.' His breathing was still erratic.

'You have no clue what he wants?' The water was closing in on his neck, his lips looked like they were turning blue with the cold.

'Wants to play. To play games with me.'

'This is a game? What sick, twisted fuck calls this a game?' Jake was getting exasperated.

'He's disappointed in me. Doesn't rate my survival instinct. He keeps thinking every time that I'm going to die. Then I don't, and that pisses him off because he can't understand why.' Damon coughed, spluttered a mouthful of foul water, and pulled himself up abruptly, as the water reached the level of his mouth. He was starting to get agitated. The chains pulled tight, there wasn't much scope for him to escape the rising level. 'But every time I don't die, I just have to play another game. Life would be so much easier if I just gave up on trying to survive.' Even strained as hard as he could against the chains he couldn't keep his mouth above the water any more. Time was short. 'He doesn't know I'm telepathic. But we're all telepathic, that's the connection. That's what makes us the tomorrow people. Telepathic like you.'

Jake watched silently in horror. Damon had closed his mouth and was trying to breath through his nose, but that was the briefest of respites. The water rose, and as the seconds passed Damon became more and more frantic, fighting, pulling, trying to break free. But the darkness was pulling him down.

Jake blinked, he was back sat in the armchair. Nervous, glancing rapidly around the room. He was alone. More than a little freaked out, but alone. What the hell had Damon meant by that whole 'telepathic like you' line?

* * *

Jake sat back and closed his eyes. 'Can you hear me?'

'Loud and clear.' The voice sounded stronger. Tired, but a lot more balanced.

'What happens, you keep disappearing?'

'Don't know, haven't been able to work that out. I just can't seem to stay awake more than a few hours at a stretch.'

'How you holding out?'

'Better than I was. I woke up back in the room here. Pretty badly cut, from the tank. Hurts. But, the wounds have been cleaned, bandaged. So I'm expected to live a little longer I guess.'

'How much longer do you figure we have before they get bored of you?'

'The shortest time between abductions was five days. The longest was about twenty two. I might have a week, I might have a month. Right now the prospect of living like this another month is, I mean, I don't want to die but, I don't know how much more I can take.'

'You want to escape. You want to make the motherfucker suffer for what he's done to you.' It was a statement, not a question.

'Right. You're right. Problem is how.'

'We brainstorm. What are our assets?' Jake tried to get practical.

'Your brains, my body.'

'My brain isn't in the best state right now.'

'You want to see the state of my body.'

Jake was kind of relieved that Damon had managed some feeble attempt at humor. It was very forced, and barely half convincing, but at least it meant the guy hadn't totally given up yet. Jake got back to serious. 'We got to find out where you are.'

'I agree. For what its worth. Got any bright ideas how? Oh you mind if I eat while we talk?'

'Go ahead. So you know, it's still Saturday, 5:16 PM. It's been about three or four hours since they had you in the tank. And that food looks like dog shit.'

'Looks like dog shit, tastes of over boiled cabbage. And the service here is terrible.'

'Right, service, you get the food, but in two days you haven't seen anyone? They must have been in the room a whole bunch of times, and you didn't wake up or sense them anywhere close by even once in that time?'

'No. And no. There's a camera in the smoke detector. I figure they watch and wait.'

'You still never manage to wake up though?'

'You're thinking they're giving me something to knock me out?'

'Has to be something like that. No pattern though. Knock the camera out and you might have some way of throwing a little uncertainty back at them.'

Damon finished eating and went to lie back on the bed. 'I got ideas there, I think I know how I could take the camera out. Don't see what that buys me right now.' He was yawning.

'Come on, way too early to be falling asleep yet. We still got planning to do.'

Jake could sense Damon slipping away. He fought to try and retain the connection, but it was no good. Somehow Damon must have been drugged, it was the only way. And there was only one way Jake could figure it could have happened.

* * *

"Tuesday, 07:00 hours. Subject eleven, experiment four. Start record."

Damon found himself strapped rigidly into a mechanical structure that kept his entire body immobilized. Some kind of medical restraint he figured. His head was clamped into place, he was uncomfortable, and feeling incredibly claustrophobic. There were electrodes placed all over his body, and more around his head. He noticed that chunks of his hair had been cut short, and completely shaved off in a few patches. Fucking great, like he needed his hair to look any more stupid. It was a minor point though, he had bigger things to worry about. The question wasn't whether the situation was bad, the question was how bad, and how painful this was going to get. He really wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"Nothing for you to do this time. Just suffer. This will hurt to begin with, I'm afraid. Although, you shouldn't care after we get going, oxytocin injected directly into the amygdala has that side effect. I'm fairly sure this is a non-lethal dose.

'Jake?' He tried to call out, but he wasn't getting any response. He tried to struggle, but he was bound too tightly. Then the pain started.

* * *

He regained consciousness back in the room he was being kept locked up in. Every muscle in his body felt like it was bruised and aching. He had no energy left, no will to live. He lay on the bed, fetal, broken. In the back of his mind he could hear Jake calling out to him, but he didn't have the strength to respond. He just lay there, letting what was left of the sensation of being alive wash over him. Death, he reflected, would be so much easier than this. Moving was too much effort. He lay there, weakly singing nursery rhymes to himself, because that was the only thing left that his mind seemed to be capable of.

* * *

Jake was worried. Hours had passed and the flashes of rational thought he was sensing from Damon had remained few and far between. He calculated that at this rate of attrition Damon wouldn't survive another few days, let alone a week. The situation was desperate. Beyond desperate. Somehow he had to make Damon understand that. Which was going to be cruel, but it was the only way Jake could think of to get Damon desperate enough to be ready to take whatever suicidal risks it was going to be necessary to take in order to get out of there. Because at this point, getting him suicidal looked like it was going to be the only way to save his life.

* * *

'Hey.'

'Hey.' Damon had replied weakly.

'You look worse than shit warmed up.'

'Right. Thanks.'

Jake was relieved, the guy sounded bad, but at least he had his attention. 'You eaten yet?'

'Not yet. Smells like cabbage. I used to like cabbage. Time?'

'Sunday, 3:12 PM. Don't eat it. They drug the food. That's how they knock you out, that's how they move you around and change things without you waking up. You have to pretend to eat. Make it look like you're eating, convince the camera, then pretend to pass out on the bed. Then you have to wait for someone coming."

'Overpower them? Jake I don't even have the strength to stand up. I'm not going to make it, even if I do get out, I don't even know where I am. In the middle of nowhere. Remember?'

'Lies, like he lies about the time. He wants you to believe its all hopeless. But you can do this.'

'Its easy to have that kind of courage when you're not the one here.' The tone was more desperate than accusational. 'I get out, then what do I do?'

'I don't know. I don't plan, I make life up as I go along, and that always just worked before. I've never been in the crap as deep as you are. Sorry, I know that doesn't help, but that's how it is.'

'If you tried to tell me everything was alright, that would just make you another fucking liar. I don't see any way out of this alive. I don't know how much longer he'll keep me alive. He doesn't even know what he wants. He certainly isn't going to get his answers from studying me.'

'And once he works that out, you die.'

'He said he dumps the bodies in hospital incinerators so they can't get traced. I don't know if he said that just to scare me. I used to be able to tell what people were thinking, but I'm struggling with that right now. I don't want to die, Jake, I don't want to die, but I can't go on like this, I can't deal with it any more.'

'If you can't go on with it, what have you got to lose? There is nothing you can do now is going to make things worse.'

'Nope, nothing.'

Jake felt a moment of hope, if he had convinced Damon of that then they had a chance. 'So get behind the door when you sense him coming. As he comes in, slam the door in his face. While he's still stunned, take the chair and hit him with it. And don't stop hitting him with it until the bloodied pulp that's left couldn't follow you anywhere. Break his legs, break his fucking neck. You have nothing to lose.'

* * *

It must have taken him fifteen or twenty minutes to gather the strength, but Damon finally managed to stumble off the bed. The plan seemed completely unworkable, he didn't have the energy to get from the bed to the chair, how the hell was he going to have the energy to make an escape. Especially without eating. He sat down at the table, the food had been left there an hour or two, it would be stone cold by now. The stench of the cabbage rendered the act of pretending to eat the food almost as distasteful as eating it would have been for real. Well, that should make the act convincing. Once he was done, the tray cover conveniently hid the fact the meal was completely untouched.

Damon stood up and spent a minute or two pacing the room, he tried as much to follow his usual routine before lying down on the bed. To wait. How long to wait? This was all stupid, it wasn't going to work.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep. Not helpful, but, no, this was different, he was alert, alerted. There was someone out there in the corridor. Damon slipped out of bed and headed nervously for the door. He was feeling a lot better. Somehow stronger despite not having eaten. The food really had been drugged, had to have be drugged for him not to have been sensing this stuff before. But this time he was ready, for the first time since he'd been captured he had the advantage. For the first moment in days he actually felt a sense of hope. He had a chance, a real chance. Now he just had to make it happen.

The next few moments happened in such quick succession that his awareness of it all seemed to overlap. The door swinging back and hitting his captor full in the face, sending him staggering backwards. Jake waking from a half sleep and abruptly connecting with him. The few steps it took to grab the chair. The force of the chair as he swung it at his captor, now staggering back towards him, smashing him to the ground. Standing over him, looking down. Raising the chair intending to strike again and again. Looking down at the dazed and bleeding figure. But all Damon could see was himself, he could see through his abductors eyes. See the fear, feel the fear and the pain. He could look up at himself brandishing the chair. He could feel what it was to be lying there on the ground, cowering, anticipating the blow. The guy was stunned, helpless, defenseless. Damon had the chair, and there was nothing to stop him, nothing to stop him hitting and hitting until he was sure he could make his escape. And he realized he couldn't do it. Couldn't strike out like that at someone who was helpless, defenseless, who could no longer fight back.

Damon stood there, and dropped the chair.

'For fucks sake what are you doing? Pick the chair up again, hit him, get it over with.'

"I can't. He's helpless, I'll kill him."

'Shit Damon, this isn't funny. You have to. You don't do this, he'll get up again, he'll kill you, you know that.'

'I know. I can't explain, I know I need to hurt him, but I can't. I just... can't.'

'Shit.' Jake's mind was working frantically, trying to come up with a new plan. 'Run, just run, Run while you can. Run as far away as you can before... wait. The cellphone, take his cellphone. Call the police. Then run.'

Damon managed to grab the cellphone that had fallen to the ground and was clumsily trying to dial. "Call the police. Call the police, right. I can't. Service blocked. Fuck. How can you block emergency services?" Damon babbled frantically.

Jake was kicking himself. 'Okay, come on, think, Jake, think. It's a GPS enabled cellphone. Okay, right. Try this. Call this number; Oh-one-nine-one, you dialing this?'

"Yep."

'Five-five-five, six-eight-three, six-three-three.'

'Got it... It's...'

'Ringing!'

'Answered!'

'You need to hit okay to give me permission to...'

'I see it, you got it.'

'Getting a GPS trace. Takes a few seconds. Now you need to...'

It was too late. Damon turned to see his captor leaning against the door frame, in pain, but mobile enough to have picked up what was left of the chair. And his captor had no hesitation nor remorse in making sure Damon wasn't going to get up again in a hurry.

* * *

Jake blinked. Damon had probably just signed his own death warrant. He looked down helplessly at his cellphone. He had a trace. He knew where Damon was. Monday morning, 4:17 AM. And probably too late.

* * *

**14: Off On A Little Jaunt**

* * *

Jake had done some pretty crazy things in his life. None even came close to this inspired act of lunacy.

From the GPS coordinates he had gone online and pulled up a map and some aerial photographs of what appeared to be an old local hospital. The place was officially scheduled to have been shut down, there had been a bunch of petitions to try and save it, but there wasn't much clarity on exactly what the current state of the situation was. It didn't matter. That was where Damon was, and that was where he had to start.

The train would get him there in about three hours. First train of the day. He wasn't really sure if that was going to be soon enough. He wasn't sure of anything.

He'd paid for the ticket with cash left by his parents for emergencies, he could cover that easily before they got back, they'd never notice. He was wearing old clothes and a hoodie that had actually been his sister's, which definitely wasn't his normal style, but he wanted to keep his trip as anonymous as possible. Not that he was entirely sure why he was so desperate to avoid raising suspicion, it just felt like a good idea.

He wasn't sure, either, what the fuck he was supposed to do when he got there. He would have plenty of time to worry about that on the way. Anyway, having too good a plan had never really worked for him in the past, it just stressed him out more when the plans went wrong. And stress, he decided, was something that he didn't need any more of when he was on his way to an abandoned hospital, searching for a murderous psychopath.

When he got back he was really going to have to confront himself about what the fuck had possessed him to do all this in the first place. Sure he felt guilty at giving the bad advice that had probably gotten Damon killed, but risking his own life to rush off to help someone who was probably already dead, that was a bit, well, retarded. It wasn't a nice word, but Jake couldn't think of a more appropriate one.

* * *

The train had kept on schedule. Jake figured he'd made decent time, but it was over five hours now since he'd lost contact with Damon, and as those hours had passed the feelings of futility and stupidity over what he was doing had increased. He hadn't made much progress in coming up with a plan.

Jake had desperately been hoping that Damon hadn't been beaten to death, that he would wake up again, and that somehow he would be able to come up with something that would help Jake work out what to do. But as hour after hour had passed, that hope had been fading. Jake wasn't hopeful of finding Damon alive at all.

If he got there and found out Damon was alive, then he had to find a way to get the police there as fast as he could, whatever it took. Right, that was a plan.

If the place was empty, if everybody was gone, well, that was easy, the whole bloody thing had been a total waste of time and he needed his head examined.

And if Damon was dead, but the psycho guy was still there... what the fuck was he supposed to do then? Because that was the most likely situation he would be walking into. And that was the one he had the least clue how to handle.

Getting off the train he'd jumped straight in a taxi. He had the taxi drop him at the edge of a housing estate nearby, that would put him about a ten to fifteen minute walk from the hospital. It seemed like a plausible enough destination, he certainly didn't want the cab driver getting suspicious of anything and calling the police before Jake even had a clue what was going on. It was the same reason he hadn't already just called them himself, he knew they weren't going to listen. Telling them that he'd had telepathic visions wasn't exactly likely to help Damon, it was more likely just they'd have Jake locked up for wasting police time. He needed more to go on.

Ideally he wanted to be able to find a way of raising the alarm while somehow managing to stay completely anonymous. Right now he could claim he had stayed home all day, and there wasn't going to be any evidence they could easily find to prove otherwise. He'd even left his new cellphone at home, left it turned on, so that the location records for that would confirm he'd never left the house. The cellphone he'd brought was the old one that he'd broken when he went camping, now held together by sticky tape and superglue. It hadn't been used since then, if they traced it back to him, he could claim he'd lost it. He certainly had witnesses to corroborate the state he'd been in, that he'd lost his watch as well, and the police would be able to confirm that he'd bought a new phone just two days later. The evidence was definitely plausible, and it was in his favor.

Alright, paranoid was what all that was, Jake admitted, but he was genuinely worried what would happen if something went wrong, he'd already had one close run in with the police only a couple of months earlier, and this time they might just cart him off to a padded cell once they realized he was supposed to be on psychiatric medication and had decided to stop taking it. Jake thought of Kath, telling him that sooner or later he would find himself in a hole even he couldn't talk his way out of... well, this could be it.

The taxi arrived at the address he had given, he paid cash plus a decent tip, and waited for the driver to pull away before taking the map out of his pocket to try and work out where he was exactly, which way he was pointing more importantly, and then try to figure out where he was going. It would have been so much easier if he could have brought his new GPS enabled cellphone.

* * *

The walk took about ten minutes, less time than he had expected, he'd been able to cut through between the houses, a path that hadn't been obvious on the aerial photographs.

The place was definitely abandoned. The gates were chained up and there were signs warning that the place was unsafe and scheduled for demolition. There wasn't an obvious way in. Jake hadn't wanted to walk straight up the front drive anyway, so he'd continued on walking past the place, then doubled back to jump over the fence around the side and make his way back around towards the front of the place while staying half hidden in the undergrowth of the now somewhat overgrown and neglected gardens. It seemed like a reasonable course of action.

He found somewhere he could crouch concealed, overlooking the boarded up entrance to the building. He closed his eyes and tried to reach out with his mind. There wasn't anyone around that he could sense. Certainly no sense of Damon, not a sense of any living soul anywhere nearby. He was alone there, he didn't need to worry about staying hidden. Anyway, he figured there was more than enough time to dodge back under cover if he sensed anyone approaching. He made quickly across the driveway to the front entrance, checked to see if it really was locked, which it was, then headed back for the shadows on the other side.

It was looking very much like out of his options it was going to turn out to be the wasted trip scenario. But, he'd come this far, he might as well stick around a little while and take a look around. First, then, he had to find some way to get in.

All of the windows on the ground level looked like they had been boarded up. He started to make a slow perimeter of the place to get his bearings and to see if he could spot any way in. He pulled out the aerial photographs from his pocket. Now he could see the place he could see he had completely misjudged the scale. The place was a lot bigger than he had figured. And if he was going to have to search all of the buildings, it was likely going to take hours. He was starting to wish he had brought more than a few bars of chocolate to keep him going until... until he found a dead body, or until he was convinced he had searched thoroughly enough that Damon was gone. Or until it started to get dark, he wasn't much sure he wanted to stick around searching this spooky old place for a dead body after dark, and if he hadn't heard from Damon in the next couple of hours, he was going to have to face facts, he was looking for a dead body. The thought was not one he was even wanting to consider right now though.

So, start at the back and work forwards.

* * *

He sensed a presence only a few moments before he heard the sound of the engine and the noise of the tires on the gravel drive. He'd been there over an hour, and as time had passed he had been getting even more disillusioned and feeling like the whole exercise was descending into futility. He had managed to get into a couple of the buildings, looked around, but both looked like no one had been in there for some time. The arrival of the van cut into his contemplation of hopelessness.

He had to get somewhere where he could see what was happening. And he had to get there quickly and silently. He headed back into the undergrowth, and circled back around toward the front of the first building.

Two of them. Couldn't much make out what they looked like, he was too far away and trying too hard to remain hidden to get a particularly good view. He could see the van parked directly out front, there certainly wasn't anything specifically covert in their actions. The two of them stood there, they seemed to be talking, agreeing something, then they headed inside together.

So, what did this do to his plan? Maybe he could fake a panicked call to the police, then leave the cellphone on, drop it somewhere nearby so that the police could track it and then hope they turned up in time to catch the villains. Meanwhile he would made a run for it in the other direction. Somehow that sounded too simple.

One of the men was headed back out to the van carrying a box of files, he opened the back of the van, stacked the box inside, and leaving the van open headed back inside. Shit. It looked distinctly like they were planning to move out. There was no chance the police would get there in time. This kind of screwed everything. It didn't much fit with any of the scenarios Jake had worked through. Which, he smugly concluded, was why making plans was pointless.

Alright, he forced himself to relax and try and think things through again. New plan. He had to track that van, find out where they were going. No problem, his mother had made him get the service on the phone so that in case of emergency she could call a number and find out where he was. All he had to do was leave the phone on and sneak it into the back of the van somehow. Right. A lot easier bloody said than done.

He watched, the two of them were headed back out carrying more boxes. It took them at least a minute or two every time they headed back in to the building. There was no knowing how much more time he had, but it wasn't likely going to be very much longer. Alright, the plan was totally half-arsed, and the risks were way too stupid, but if there was even just a chance he could get some kind of anything done. Damon was probably dead and this was his one chance to do something about making sure the bastards who killed him got caught. He had to try.

Jake turned on the cellphone, pleased to see it actually was still working after his makeshift repairs, then waited for the two men to head once more into the building. Even with trying to keep quiet on the gravel, he made it across to the van in under fifteen seconds, then froze. Bloody fucking typical, the time he picks to make his move is the time they forget something and come straight back. He was crouched down on the driver's side of the van which was the side furthest from the building entrance. For now at least they couldn't see him, and as long as they didn't need to get anything from the driver's seat he would be okay. They were walking back pretty slowly, making a lot of noise, pulling something across the gravel. Jake dropped down and in desperation rolled under the van, hoping they were too preoccupied with what they were doing to notice him. They were certainly making too much noise of their own to stand much chance hearing him. From under the van he could see what they were making all the noise dragging along. A trolley, four metal wheels. Maybe two feet wide, eight feet long.

Jake stared at it. It was body sized, and he could sense a vague kind of presence, so it wasn't a dead body. There was a muffled blankness to the feeling, whoever was on there was either unconscious or drugged. There was no way he could tell for sure if it was Damon or not, but he had to figure there was a good chance it was. It finally occurred to Jake that he was in this totally over his head, his plans were half arsed beyond belief. He couldn't see how the hell tracking the van was going to help Damon, but he really couldn't think what the fuck else he could do. There wasn't time to sabotage the van, there was no way he could outright tackle two people, his only hope was to keep on their track and hope a better opportunity would present itself.

He could see them still trying to manhandle the trolley onto the van, they weren't finding it so easy. Jake needed them to head back inside the building leaving the van doors open, he only needed a few seconds to throw the phone inside. He got ready to move.

Jake didn't even wait for them to get as far as the building before he gently rolled out from underneath. A moment later he was peering round into the back of the van, he could hear a feint noise from inside. There was definitely someone there on the stretcher trolley, someone who was still breathing. Jake quickly looked around and spotted a bundle of blankets down by the side, he could push the phone down in there. Then he heard voices. Shit. One of the guys was headed round to the front of the truck with the keys, Jake started to crap himself. There was nowhere to go, he couldn't make a run for it without being seen. He couldn't get back under the van because that would bloody kill him when it pulled away. And he couldn't stay where he was, because the other guy was going to be there any second to close up the back of the van. Whichever way Jake figured it, he was fucked.

Three seconds later he was lying under the blankets, desperately trying to stay motionless, hoping the darkness in the back of the van would help hide him. Hoping they wouldn't throw anything in on top of him, because that might fucking hurt. He held his breath in the darkness and counted, second by second, wondering if he was about to be discovered. Then he heard the doors slammed shut. For a moment he felt relief, then reminded himself that relief was a rather strange emotion to be feeling when locked in the back of a van that belonged to a couple of killer psychopaths who were probably on their way to dump a body. Put like that, it wasn't funny.

* * *

The van came to a standstill and the engine was turned off. It had been stop and go for about five minutes now, Jake had guessed they were probably stuck in the afternoon rush hour traffic jam. But then they'd turned, gone over what felt like a big metallic sounding speed bump, and moments later the van finally stopped. Jake listened out, straining to hear whatever he could. He heard the driver's side door open, heard someone walking around to the back of the van. This was it.

He tried to keep his heart rate under control, tried to minimize his breathing. If he was going to get found out, it would be now. He was counting on the fact that they would be too preoccupied with getting Damon moved out of there, and once they were far enough away that would give Jake his opportunity to get out of there and make a run for it. Well, assuming there was anywhere obvious to run too, a big assumption considering the fact that he didn't have a clue where the fuck he was. It was hard to convince himself that his chances of getting away without being seen were all that great, especially with the way his luck had been going today.

The other factor in the mix was that he was starting to sense feint snatches of awareness from Damon. Jake tried to get through to him, but there was still too much confusion and distance in Damon's mind. The last thing Jake needed was Damon's captors to spot that he had regained consciousness and do anything unwarranted to knock him out again. But if Jake could somehow convince Damon to fake unconsciousness so that his captors didn't notice, that could maybe help a lot. Not that Jake had a plan yet, but he was trying to keep open as many options as possible.

The van's rear doors were opened. Jake felt the van bounce gently up and down a little as the stretcher trolley was being unloaded, then the doors were again slammed shut. He waited in the silence. He could sense one of the guys leaving, but the other was still there. Heading back round the front. Shit, total fucking shit, the engine was starting up again. Jake contemplated trying to make a jump for it before the van got going to fast, but the idea of jumping out in the middle of what might be moving traffic didn't much appeal to him. He was stuck with the van and its driver, when he really wanted to be out there following Damon. Nothing was going right.

Then Jake wondered if finally his luck was starting to change. The van had only driven a minute or two further before stopping again. From the tight corners it was taking and the echoes he could hear, he was pretty sure it was some kind of enclosed parking place. Maybe this wasn't so bad, they'd unloaded Damon and the other guy had just gone to park the van. The guy who was driving got out, Jake waited only just long enough to sense the guy was far enough away that he felt reasonably confident it was safe to try and get out of there. He couldn't afford to wait until he was completely sure it was safe, the longer he left it the harder it would be to find them again. Not that they were going to get very far, or be at all inconspicuous, not while they were wheeling a patient on a stretcher.

He counted to three, opened the door, and slipped out. He was in an underground parking lot exactly as he'd figured, there wasn't much light, and a lot of other cars. He quickly pushed the door shut behind him and keeping low dodged one row of cars along and headed to what looked like a staircase. That was where he'd sensed the guy heading, that was where he had to follow. Once he got to the stairs he told himself he also had to stop cowering behind cars like he was shit scared, he would be less likely to draw attention that way.

He raced down the concrete stairs to find himself out in a large paved area on the side of a river. It was some kind of eating and shopping area next to what looked like a ferry boat crossing type place. He tried to turn and act casually, there were people everywhere, at least he figured he was safe for now.

He wasn't going to get very far trying to look for anyone in these crowds, however conspicuous they were. He was getting frustrated again, they might just have been switching vehicles and could be miles away already.

Jake cleared his mind and tried calling out. Damon was still out there, still just on the wrong side of sentient, but getting stronger. Somewhere not too far away, Jake could sense that he was not that far away at all.

The smell of the hot dogs from the stand was torturing Jake, but he didn't have time to think about eating. He had to try and work out...

'Jake.'

He spun around, looking, trying to see where the voice was coming from. This would have to be the first time he had ever been pleased to be hearing disembodied voices.

'Jake.' Damon called again. But this time the voice was fading quickly, Damon was getting shot up with tranquilizers again.

Shit. Where the fuck was he? He'd definitely been outside, but not on a stretcher any more, they switched him into a wheelchair. Right, made sense, so they could wheel him around without drawing so much attention. It had been a really bumpy ride, up a ramp, there had been some level of awareness of that in Damon's mind. A ramp?

Ferry, car ferry, car ferry across the river. Fucking shit. Jake could see it standing there in the dock. That was why they'd parked there. Fucking obvious if he stopped to think about it. Jake scanned along the deck of the ferry. Across towards the back he could see a figure sat slumped in a wheelchair, the face was obscured by a hat pulled right down over it, Damon's abductors obviously hadn't wanted anyone recognizing him. But Jake was absolutely convinced that it had to be Damon. Now all Jake had to do was get onto that ferry. There were still a few people walking up the ramp, there was still a chance.

He made off in the direction of the ferry, but there seemed to be a whole crowd of people between him and the gate that led out onto the dock area, and they were getting in the way, they didn't seem to want to move as quickly as Jake did. There were people pushing against him, trying to get past in the other direction, he ignored them, all he was concerned about was trying to get to that ferry.

Then Jake heard a short blast from the ferry's horn, followed by the clank of chains grinding as the loading ramp was being retracted. He was too late. He started to push through to try to get to the railings, trying to get a better view. He'd fucked up, he'd lost them. All this way, all this terror, all this stupidity and now it was all for nothing. He stared angrily at the figures still stood there on the deck, frightened of loosing sight of them, knowing this was probably the last sight he would have of Damon alive. How could he have been so fucking stupid?

He continued fighting against the tide of people, still half in denial about the futility of it all, he was pushed, jostled, pulled away from the railings. He couldn't see the ferry any more, he tried to fight through, back to the river's edge, but he was caught in the crowd, he couldn't move. He didn't want to be there, he desperately wanted to be on the ferry. He had to get to Damon somehow, had to. Didn't matter how, didn't matter how impossible it was, he had to keep on trying. He pushed, he was pushed back. He felt unsteady, like the world had shifted around him, he tried to balance himself, but he couldn't compensate for the sudden change in momentum. He staggered, fell onto the ground. He lay there face down, the crowd still pushing past, not even caring if anyone trampled on him. His little jaunt was over. He'd lost. Jake buried his face in his hands, he didn't want to start crying, didn't want to make a spectacle of himself.

Someone reached down to help him up. He thanked them briefly and then reluctantly returned his attention to getting back to the railings to get one last look at the ferry. It was hopeless, there was nothing more he could do, but he still needed to see that to get him past his denial.

The crowd had stopped moving, he could see only people around him. And either he was getting dizzy from half holding his breath with his heart pumping so hard, or something was very wrong with gravity. He pushed through in the direction of the railings and came out...

There was definitely something wrong with gravity, he had to grab at the railings to steady himself. There was something fucked up about the whole world. He was stood on the deck of the ferry.

He clung tightly to the ferry railings, gazing back at the people lining the side of the dock, staring at them them waving back at him. Well, likely not waving at him, but waving at others on the ferry. He was on the ferry. He looked round silently freaking out, he was definitely on some kind of boat. And in the distance he could see the dockside where he had been pushing through the crowd moments earlier. Had it been moments earlier, or had he blacked out again? Nice idea, but he didn't have blackouts any more, and the ferry was only just now maneuvering out of the moorings. He felt faint, the blood draining from his face. Damn it, he could not be in one place one moment, and somewhere totally different the next. Not possible. Not humanly possible. He wanted to scream.

He was shaking and a little distraught. He started to notice people were looking at him. He glanced around, he was drawing attention to himself. He had to calm down. The ferry ride would be at least fifteen or twenty minutes, this was going to be the first opportunity he'd had in hours to stop panicking for a few minutes and to try and think straight.

His first priority had to be to accept that somehow he was now on the ferry. He could worry about how that had happened later. Then, he desperately needed to go pee, and he was even more desperately hungry, he now had time to remedy both those problems. Finally he had to find Damon again, because Jake had a crazy idea of tipping him out of the wheelchair in the middle of a crowd and making a scene. Jake's face had been all over the news, someone was bound to recognize him, and on a ferry there was nowhere the abductors could run. It almost seemed too easy.

* * *

Jake had managed to get himself a hot dog, and had bought a bunch of chocolate bars to keep him going for later, he figured he still had a long ride home. He wasn't exactly confident that, even if everything was over within the next ten minutes, he was going to be able to make it all the way home tonight. It was already getting fairly late into the evening.

And there was no sign of Damon. Not anywhere. It wasn't that big a ferry, and he'd been wandering round and round the decks looking, and he was starting to doubt that this was even the same ferry he'd seen Damon on earlier. It was also obvious that the ferry was approaching the dock on the other side of the river, his time was running out. The only place he hadn't searched was the car deck. It had to be possible that they already had another vehicle down there waiting. The guy who'd parked the van could have driven on in another vehicle while the other had wheeled Damon on as a foot passenger. Then as soon as possible after the ferry had left dock, and while the car deck was quiet, they had wheeled Damon down there to stash him away again in the new vehicle. Probably worried someone would work out who Damon was if they kept him up on deck too long. Jake was pissed off. It was the only decent plan he'd had all day, and it was looking like it was dead in the water.

People were starting to head back down to their cars, Jake figured he could risk heading down there to take a look around, see if he could spot the vehicle. It ought to be possible, he could walk past all the vans and trucks and see, he should be able to sense something when he was that close even if Damon was unconscious. And he didn't have much time.

It wasn't a big ferry, and there weren't that many vans to have to check. He found the one he was looking for relatively easily. An ambulance, two people up front, one unconscious somebody in the back. Jake kept on walking past and doubled back to go stand over by the stairs where he could see the ambulance, but avoid looking too suspicious. Somehow he had to work out a way of getting into the back of the ambulance without being seen. Yes, get himself back into that crazy, fucked up situation again. If he stopped to think too much about what he was doing, he started to freak himself out, so he tried not to think about it.

He could see the ambulance, he could just about see inside the ambulance through the darkened glass. It was high enough to stand up in, and there wasn't much else in there. Seeing through darkened glass in the darkened hold of a ferry? Was he seeing what was in there, or just sensing it somehow? And what exactly was the difference?

He had to try and keep his mind on track, not get distracted by interesting but unhelpful philosophical distractions. He couldn't afford to lose focus now. Damon was alive, and his captors weren't going to all this trouble keeping him alive to be just on their way to dump a body. If Jake could just stay with them, maybe there still was a chance he could rescue Damon. He just had to get in the ambulance. He had nothing to lose, he'd made it this far. So when they were distracted, when the ferry was docking and there was the noise and the vibration of that, he just had to walk over, open the door, climb in the back of the ambulance. And do it with an arrogance and confidence that would make anyone else who saw him getting in there think it was perfectly normal.

That was it. That was what he did every day at school when he was getting the better of the teachers. That was what he was good at. About bloody time that he started to feel like he could handle this. He'd been lacking the confidence for so long, his head had been messed up for so long, but now he was past all that. He was back, better than ever. And he was going to make this happen.

He waited his moment, closed his eyes, cleared his mind, took a few deep breaths, then made his move. Walking deliberately straight up to the door at the back of the ambulance, smiling and nodding at the people in the car behind. The ferry was shaking as it turned to line up with the dock, and Jake casually climbed in the back of the ambulance and closed the door behind him. Once inside he let out a breath of relief, and for the first time since he'd set out fifteen hours earlier, he allowed himself a brief smile.

He'd managed to get inside the back of the ambulance, and not a moment too soon either, the ferry doors were opened and it pulled away only a few minutes later.

Inside, in the dark, Jake could hear Damon's shallow breathing. The guy was still in the wheelchair, which seemed to be strapped into some kind of harness, he looked okay for now. Jake curled up on the seat and tried to ignore the uncomfortable fact that he seemed to be getting mildly turned on by the fact that the situation was now totally out of control. And ignore the fact that his leg was starting to cramp up where he was lying awkwardly on it, there just wasn't enough space to stretch out.

* * *

He awoke as the ambulance skidded to a halt rather abruptly. He was a little angry with his own stupidity there, falling asleep was not the best thing he could have done right now. If he got caught he was going to be in a lot of trouble. He listened attentively. The engine had stopped. He sat up and looked out the windows. By now it was dark out, but there were floodlights everywhere, he was in a car park again, one outside this time. Not many other vehicles around, no people around at all. There was a building not too far away as well, all lit up, wherever it was it looked like it was a fairly busy place.

He heard the driver's door open. Jake glanced around frantically. There was nowhere to hide, nothing in there to hide under like there had been in the van. He desperately had to get out, but there was no time left. He tried to remind himself that he'd been enjoying this only a few minutes earlier, at least now he'd snapped back to some approximation of his senses. There was no time to freak out about anything, he had to come up with a plan. Jump them when they opened the door and make a run for it? He wasn't thinking straight. The guy was walking round the ambulance. There wasn't a thing Jake could do, he was beyond desperate, he was helpless. What the fuck had he been thinking of, coming all this way on his own without any kind of meaningful plan, taking a stupid risk like that? Now he was pretty much fucked, unless somehow he could disappear from in there and reappear over in the trees he could see across from where they were parked. And that kind of thing was impossible, even if he had already done it once that day.

He had to focus, had to get this right. He would only get one chance. He stood up, with some effort, his leg was cramping up badly now, and stared into the darkness between the trees, wishing he was there, pleading he was there, how the fuck had he done it? He'd focussed on the place he wanted to be, and somehow... he felt reality shift sideways. He felt unsteady for a moment, but recovered much more quickly this time. He was stood in the trees, in the shadows. He turned to look back at the ambulance.

There was only one guy now, the other had gone. the one remaining had just opened the door and was getting the wheelchair into the hydraulic lift in order to lower it down to the ground.

Jake was well aware he'd only just escaped in time. He calculated it must only have taken him about four seconds to disappear like that and to reappear where he was. He still wasn't sure what the hell was going on, by all rational logical consideration he should have been caught and in deep shit by now. But then, if you wanted to bring logic into it, he should still have been stuck on the dock by the river. Logic wasn't working so well today. Which, as crap as his ability to plan had been all day, was probably a good thing.

He watched Damon being unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled off across the car park towards the building. Jake stamped his foot to try and recover some feeling in his leg. He was desperately tired, it was getting to the point that he would be to exhausted to make any attempt to escape if he was seen, he certainly didn't have confidence he had the energy for another one of those disappearing stunts. Exhaustion had a real impact on telepathy, just trying to stay in touch with Damon over the last few days had taught him that. Right now he was past the point of being able to function. He had to stop, rest, try and recover.

Damon and his captor had gone into the building, it didn't make sense this was another transfer, it had to be the final destination.

Jake stepped deeper into the trees and took the opportunity to pee, then headed back towards the ambulance. There was no one around. He tried the ambulance door. It was still open, keys were still in the ignition. Careless. Or maybe not, the ambulance might well have been stolen, or fake. Jake grabbed the keys, it might at least stop them leaving that way in a hurry.

There seemed very little he could do at that point in time. He figured his best plan was to find somewhere to hide for what was left of the night and try and get some sleep.

* * *

He managed a few hours of fitful, restless sleep. He didn't feel particularly refreshed, but it was better than nothing. He was cold, shivering, at least it hadn't rained. He'd climbed up and spent the night on the roof of some out buildings right next to wherever it was he had followed them to. It was pretty convenient, out of sight of people below, and there weren't any windows overlooking the place. Sure, he was terrified of heights, but it wasn't too high, and the fact that he was desperate helped mitigate his fears a lot.

He awoke thirsty, he awoke clear headed. It was the clear headed part that was less pleasant. He'd spent the entire previous day stumbling from one cock up to the next. He'd only made it this far by dumb luck, and sooner or later that dumb luck was going to run out. And he hadn't been able to do a single thing to help Damon, and once again he had no clue what to do next. Being stupidly impulsive was really not working for him as a lifestyle. But he was here, and Damon was still in trouble, so that was it. Much as he wanted to forget the whole damned thing, give up and go home while he was still alive, his conscience was telling him he had to keep going.

Home, he reminded himself, was a long, long way away right now. A cold and sobering thought, or it would be if he weren't uncomfortably cold and totally sober already. The fact that it was summer was not very noticeable this early in the morning.

He had to focus on the day, get on with it. Get it over with. He peered down cautiously over the ledge to get an idea what kind of mess he was starting the day in. From where he was he had a pretty good view of what in the daylight was looking like a hospital, a real hospital this time. The place seemed pretty busy already for as early in the morning as he figured it must be. The ambulance was still down there, he wasn't sure why, but that gave him some reassurance.

He waited a few moments until he was sure no one was around, then quickly climbed down from the roof. Managed to get himself covered in dirt and moss from the guttering as he climbed down. He wondered how bad he looked. Fuck awful probably. He tried to brush himself down.

If he wanted to look a little less conspicuous he was going to have to get cleaned up. Getting some coffee to wake him up would also help. Then, he figured, he had to grab himself a white coat and a clipboard from somewhere, that way he could wander about all day without being challenged and start snooping around looking for Damon. Well, it always seemed to work on TV.

* * *

He avoided the main entrance, went in by a side door. He quickly found a washroom. He managed to clean himself up reasonably, and make himself look slightly less decayed than he felt. Unfortunately making his hair stay flat was a losing battle.

Storage rooms were well labelled, easy to find, and great places to hide while the corridors were otherwise occupied. Also sensible places to start looking for white coats as well, or so he thought.

In the end he gave up and nicked one from a staff office. Got the clipboard from the same place as well. In consideration however, he left the notes from the clipboard on the doctors desk and obtained himself a fresh set from the waste paper bin. He was rather starting to enjoy himself, he loved watching TV shows about con men, the gentlemanly type of course, who only used their skills to prey on criminals and help innocent people. He'd always secretly lusted after that kind of life, but never figured he'd ever have had the courage to do it for real. Strange how circumstance could change all that so easily.

He wandered about for an hour, drank several cups of very black coffee from vending machines, and ended up pretty much nowhere. The place seemed vast and a methodical search was taking him ages. There were signposts were everywhere, but none of them were very helpful. He had to be careful not to stop for too long trying to read them as well, he couldn't risk looking suspicious. Although the fact that he didn't look particularly over seventeen ought to have raised more than a few suspicions already and it hadn't. The only strange looks anyone had given him had all been on account of his messed up hair.

Were these people blind and stupid, or just fallible and human? They couldn't see it, couldn't see there was something distinctly wrong here. Jake could always see right through deception, he could see truth and lies as if they had color and texture. What made him so different from other people?

Maybe he was normal, and it was everyone else that was weird. No, he decided, they were the sensible ones, Jake on the other hand was there on the trail of a murdering psychopath. There was no doubt in his mind, that made him the totally abnormal silly fucker.

He was thinking too hard and not looking hard enough. He walked straight into a young nurse. "My apologies, my mind was elsewhere. I'm looking for, patient admitted late last night, and I'm in somewhat of a hurry." He tried to sound brusque. All doctors on TV were brusque. He wasn't much sure how convincing he was though.

"It's alright, I'm okay. If you're looking for that patient in the isolation lab, you're in totally the wrong building."

"I am, damn. Reception must have screwed up the directions. I should have been there five minutes ago, which way do I need to head?"

"You'll find the isolation ward right down the other end of the building. Just follow this corridor all the way to the end, you can't miss it."

"'Thanks, sorry if I sounded rude, bit of a hangover. I appreciate your help."

"No trouble. Perhaps I'll see you around, that is if you're here for a few days?"

"Yes, I am. Maybe I'll look out for you." He smiled graciously. She fancied him?

He watched her leave and then headed off in the direction of the isolation ward. Seemed like as likely a place as any to be looking. He was kind of surprised at his own quick thinking, but at least he had survived the encounter without arousing any suspicion. Although, he smiled, he had managed to arouse a nurse. He liked that. He wondered if it was the white coat that did it for her.

Anyway, no time to linger on that thought too much. First stop, isolation ward. Just hope they haven't got a genuine case in there, he reminded himself pleasantly.

* * *

The isolation section was quiet. Not entirely unsurprisingly. And it didn't take him long to find his objective. Convenient, the plastic isolation cover made it almost impossible to see who was there. They could hide someone there for days, and no one would ever check too closely. Pretty clever.

Jake felt a little uncomfortable, he was aware this was not somewhere it was safe to hang around. Sure, he would be able to sense anyone coming, and there were plenty ways to make an exit. But making an exit wasn't his objective, not without Damon anyway. Which was a problem, because he hadn't bothered thinking what he was going to do when he actually found Damon. No change there, he noted sarcastically, that policy had worked so well for him up to now, and it would be crazy to stop just because it was stupid.

He looked down at the figure on the bed, the guy was still unconscious. Jake had no clue how much longer the sedation would last. There was no way he could get Damon very far without him being conscious, or without finding him some clothes. Clothes, orderlies uniforms, he'd seen those somewhere. And he still had the keys to the ambulance, driving that couldn't be all that different to driving a car. Not that he had much clue how to drive a car, his dad had taken him out on a private track once. He figured he could work it out. And if they were caught by the police well, that was fine, they were escaping from having been abducted. The police ought to recognize Damon easily enough, his picture had been on every newspaper front page for the last three days.

It was a million to one chance, but it just might work.

He had to go find the clothes.

* * *

The break room was as good a place as any to wait. What he didn't know was how long he would have to wait. People seemed to come and go all the time but they didn't pay him any attention, he could get all the coffee he needed to help him stay alert, and there were newspapers to read so he he was up to date with all the latest celebrity gossip. Most of the newspaper's front pages had Damon's face staring back at him, and no one there had a clue that Damon was lying in a bed just a couple of corridors away.

'Jake?'

Jake smiled, the waiting was over. It was time.

'Here.' He responded, drank up his coffee and headed for the exit to the break room. He'd been sitting around the best part of two hours. Now things would happen quickly. He had timed the walk, he would be there in exactly two minutes.

'They got me on a ferry somewhere, and I could see you. You fucking came after me?' Damon was twisting, blinking his eyes, trying to stretch, trying to focus his attention on his surroundings. And, Jake surmised, failing miserably.

'Yes.'

'I know you didn't make it on to the ferry, but I want you to know, just, thanks for trying.'

Coming round disorientated and scared wasn't going to make Damon easy to communicate with, but Jake had to try. 'Is he around?'

'I heard him talking, or thinking, I don't know which, he didn't figure the call was traced, but he couldn't risk it. Had to move me. Not ready to kill me yet, one last thing he needed. Shit Jake, I'm scared. I don't think I'm going to make it.' The voice was babbling, sobbing. 'I don't want to die. I just don't know where I am, and I think it's too late. I know you tried, but I think it's too late.'

'Shut up and listen, I know where you are. I need you to focus, I need you to answer some questions.'

'How did you...?'

'No, you need to shut up and listen. Not much time. Is there anyone there now?'

'I heard him talking...'

'For fucks sake, just yes or no, anyone there now?'

'No.'

'Anyone close by?'

'No, I don't think so.'

'You figure you can walk?'

'They got me tied up.'

'Do you figure you could walk?'

'Yes.'

'How are you tied up? Chains, tape, what?'

'Restraints, probably plastic.'

'How many, can you count how many?'

'Just, four, I think. Arms, legs.'

'Which way did he leave?'

'What, I don't know.'

'Towards the right, or towards the left. That's all I need to know, a general direction.'

'Left. I think, I wasn't really paying that much attention.'

'Right, I need you to watch out for anyone coming back. I need you to shout if you sense anyone.'

'He's got my mouth taped up.'

'Shout and warn me in my head was what I had in mind, not shout out loud.'

'Right. I'm still scared.'

'Whatever happens, just focus on watching out for anyone coming. I'll do the rest.'

'Do the rest of what? Shit, there's someone coming... it's, hold on, not him. It's, I don't know. Someone else. I don't know who it is. Just...'

"Just me, thought I would come on a little jaunt to visit you." Jake tried to sound jocular and reassuring as he tore off the plastic covering and pulled out the scalpel he had stolen. The restraints were tough, but the scalpel was sharp enough to make quick work of the job. "I still need you watching out for me, I don't want someone creeping up behind, you got it?"

Damon nodded, at this point he was too far gone emotionally to have much reaction at all.

Jake cut the final strap and helped Damon off the stretcher bed. Damon was shaking pretty badly, and very weak, but he managed to stumble forward with more than a little help.

"Come on, we need to move."

Jake dragged Damon along to a supply closet, pulled him inside and locked the door behind them.

"You want me to do this slow, or fast or, look, this is going to.. oh fuck it." He pulled the tape off of Damon's mouth. Jake had figured a warning would just make it worse. "Put these on, come on, we have very little time."

Damon was in such a state that Jake had to help him into the clothes, holding on to him to steady him. The guy was cut and bruised and battered and in a state of shock, he was a mess. But he was free.

* * *

Jake managed to get Damon down the back staircase, making sure he kept looking down, Jake didn't want anyone recognizing him just yet. He wanted to put some distance between the two of them and Damon's abductor before he was willing to to risk trusting anyone.

Damon was silent, he seemed to have emotionally retreated into a walking coma, but thankfully for Jake he was still responding to directions.

Their luck held. They made it back to the same ambulance they had arrived in within minutes. Not waiting even to look back, Jake bundled Damon into the passenger seat, ran round to the drivers seat, and wondered if anyone would ever let him have a drivers license if he got caught doing this.

He put the ambulance into gear, and managed to pull away without stalling. The good thing was he couldn't see anyone getting in the way of an ambulance. That might just compensate for his lack of driving experience in terms of getting through this without crashing the bloody thing.

* * *

He was driving, but not entirely sure where he was driving. He was not entirely sure where he was. Just looking for bigger and bigger roads and hoping to see a signpost pointing in a direction he understood. He could be driving round in circles for all he knew.

No, that was unlikely, Jake's main problem was going to be getting somewhere useful before he ran out of petrol. Abandoning the ambulance, and then... there were still a lot of things he had to make happen before this was all over.

He wondered if anyone would report the stolen ambulance. He thought it unlikely Damon's abductor would, but someone else was bound to notice it was missing sooner or later.

Signpost up ahead, told him to turn right, into the center of town. Finally progress. He could dump the ambulance, they were far enough away, likely there was a point they would be safer not being in something so conspicuous. They would have to risk walking the rest of the way. He realized that they both looked awful, dirty clothes, unwashed in two days. Both of them had to smell pretty bad too. And that was exactly the state he wanted Damon to be in when the police found him. He had to look convincing.

That left only the problem of where to dump the stolen ambulance, which had to be somewhere the surveillance cameras wouldn't see two people getting out. Jake needed the police to think Damon escaped on his own. That was not going to be so easy to fake, but the truth was useless, they wouldn't believe it, and it would cause more problems than it would solve. Damon would just have to work with him on that.

Jake glanced across. Damon was sitting there scarily silent, looking blankly ahead.

* * *

The signpost to the shopping mall had appeared just in time. Jake had been starting to get desperate for ideas. He had driven the ambulance round the back into some storage area, there were cameras mounted everywhere, but he couldn't sense anything from them, he was pretty sure they were all fake. Anyway, it had to be here, the main mall area was only couple of minutes walking distance away and any further than that wouldn't work. Damon was going to struggle with a couple of minutes walking as it was.

Damon had remained silent the whole journey. Jake was starting to freak out about what kind of mental state he would be in when they found him. Sure it would look better if the guy was totally traumatized, but Jake needed him to be rational enough to lie about escaping on his own.

They abandoned the ambulance and continued on foot. Jake guided Damon up to a bench on a rise overlooking the entrance to the mall. He knew he didn't have long, he didn't want anyone having time to pay too much attention to the two of them sat there. They sat, side by side, facing the mall. Jake tried to launch into his explanation, but the blank face that stared back at him gave him little confidence he was getting through, Damon had shut down completely. Jake felt helpless. He knew what the guy had been through, he didn't blame him. But this was it, this was as far as they went together. He had to make Damon understand.

"No one needs to know about me."

"Right."

"Because there's no way we can explain any of this."

"Right."

"I know, because I can explain my way out of anything usually, but explaining this, well, better to not even try."

"Right."

"Don't want the whole world knowing what a couple of freaks we are."

"Right."

"Take care, mate."

Jake sat and watched. Sat and watched from the distance as Damon stumble away dazed. He stayed ten minutes, maybe. Not more than fifteen. It was obvious something had triggered a major commotion by that point. People running around, the noise of police sirens. An ambulance, a real one.

Jake sunk back in the seat. He'd done it. Somehow the fuck he'd done it. Now all he had to do was get himself home and cleaned up before his parents got back on Thursday morning. Which, it being Tuesday afternoon right now, was okay. He could do this. Right. Easy.

* * *

**15: Picking Up The Pieces**

* * *

Damon had to admit he was a mess. Somewhere in the panic he had lost the ability to function. He had been totally dependent on Jake telling him what to do and where to go. Now he was vaguely registering that he was going to have to be on his own again. He didn't want that, he didn't want Jake to leave. But he could see that wasn't going to work, Jake wasn't meant to be there. Jake had been trying to say that, but, Damon wasn't sure he acknowledged having heard in any meaningful way. He had felt slightly distracted.

The final walk down the hill alone to the shopping mall was exhausting. Not made easier by the fact he was hungry, thirsty, and it was a hot day. His head was beginning to throb, most of his body felt stiff and swollen. He stumbled into the place and into the cool breeze of the air conditioning not a moment too soon. One of the security guards on the door was eyeing him distinctly distastefully. Okay, fine. That was better than good. That was what he was looking for.

"I'm," Nope, he wasn't sure how to go anywhere with that sentence. He started again. "My name is Damon Jackson. I, I... need help."

The effort of talking was too great, he felt the blood rushing from his head. He thought how effective it would be if he could fake a feint. In the event, it was a real one.

* * *

He woke up, wearing a hospital gown, lying on a thin mattress, hospital bed. Hospital room, a private one. He was back where he'd started. Had this just been another one of the fucking games? Had the escape just been a dream?

He stumbled out of the bed. He could feel his arm hurting. More injections, more bloody injections. For one moment, for one fucking moment he had thought he was free. No, this nightmare wasn't ever going to end. He was attached to some kind of drip, more fucking drugs he didn't want. He angrily tore the catheter from his arm, tearing himself badly. He started bleeding, but it was just a wound, another fucking wound. He had plenty of those. He didn't care, he'd just fucking bleed on the floor, it didn't matter. He kicked over the frame that was holding he drip thing he had been connected to. No more, if they were going to kill them then why the fuck didn't they just get it over with.

He stumbled to the door, same as he had done a dozen times before. Not locked. What the fuck was going on? Was this another game, another fucking game? He could hear someone coming, he had to try and run. He tore down the corridor to the end, tried that door but it was locked. Yeah, made sense. Too fucking good to be true if it had been open. Frantically he tried banging on it, kicking it, hitting it, then in frustration and futility sunk and crouched in the corner, cowering from the figure that was coming towards him. That was it, he'd had enough.

"I want to die. Okay, just let me die. You win, I don't deserve to live. Just end it, please. No more games." He stammered out.

"It's okay Damon, we don't want to hurt you. You got away, remember? You got away? No one here wants to hurt you."

The voice sounded, odd, different. Convincing, but it had to be a trick. Another game. "Look, I told you, I don't want to play any more games. I just want to die. You were right, I don't deserve to live."

"No one is going to kill you."

"But I don't want to play any more."

"You don't have to play. No more games."

The doctor beckoned over a nurse, and whispered gently; "Open the door."

She looked over at Damon and then back at the doctor, "They don't want him leaving, they really don't think it's safe."

"And I am saying unlock that door. And he's my patient. Look at him. Traumatized. He doesn't know where he is. He can't see this isn't the same place. He thinks he's still there. We have to show him he isn't. And once you've unlocked the door, go get his stuff from the room. He isn't staying in there. This place is making it worse. And those are this doctor's orders, nurse."

Damon listened to the exchange, he was puzzled, unsure. Something was wrong. "Who are you?"

"Doctor James Stephenson. Call me Jim. Call me whatever you like. The door is open. You can go out, if you want. No games. You got away from that place. You're in a hospital, come on, I can show you."

The guy was telling the truth, at least, it seemed like he was. That was what was wrong. Damon reached out, half expecting this to be a hallucination. His fingers brushed against someone. It was someone real. "What time is it?"

"Time, Wednesday morning, a little after 10:17 AM I think. Why is the time so important?

It was important because that was a fact Damon knew he could check. He could find out if this guy was telling the truth or not. 'Jake. I got a problem.'

'You okay?' Jake was immediately worried, he could sense Damon was confused.

'What time is it?'

'10:20 AM. It's Wednesday morning, and you don't sound okay.'

'I'm, I don't know. He told me the time, the right time. He told the truth. I don't know what's going on.'

'Slow down, who told you?'

'Says he's a doctor.'

'Makes sense. First place they would take you would have been hospital. Especially given the state you were in after you escaped yesterday.'

"I escaped?" Damon wasn't sure whether he had thought that, or said it out loud.

"Yes. You escaped." The doctor had repeated gently.

'Yeah you escaped. We stole the ambulance, you have to remember?' Jake was less gentle.

"Stole an ambulance. Escaped. I escaped, I did."

"Right, and you're safe now. Safe. You don't need to worry any more." Doctor Jim continued the reassurance.

Damon started to grasp the truth. "This isn't a game. This is real." He sat in silence, waiting for the realization to sink in. There wasn't any hurry. The longer it took, the more real it seemed.

* * *

He sat on the chair. Rocking, thinking. He had a headache, but he wasn't going to take anything for it. Damon felt like he'd been shot up with enough drugs in the last week to last more than a lifetime. No more. He'd almost had a fight two days earlier with a nurse who had tried to give him something to calm him down. Anxiety, yes, he felt a whole bunch of that. And sure, he could get rid of it. But right now he preferred reality, however painful.

It sounded like they were letting him go. Wanted him out of there before the weekend. Doctor Jim had argued that it was in Damon's best interests to be back home as soon as possible, the hospital really wasn't helping his emotional condition any. Across the room they were giving his parents instructions on dealing with him. His mother had been instructed not to say anything under any circumstances about taking off the hat he was wearing to hide the mess his hacked about and partly shaved hair was in, or to make any comment about the party, or say anything at all about the events of that day at all. Fine, he was already pissed enough at himself without having her make it worse. He wasn't sure she could have made it any worse. Anyway, she was already too tied up in her own guilt to be trying to putting any more on him, she had been through her own torment that week. Somehow it made her seem more human. Or maybe it was just a matter of perspective. He'd always felt like his parents were control freaks, managing every aspect of his life, practically keeping him prisoner. Well, now he'd been tortured by a real maniac, his parents barely even seemed like poor, third rate failures in comparison. No question it gave him a different perspective on life.

And life back at home wasn't ever going to be much like it had been before. Even if he was allowed out on his own again, he wasn't exactly sure he would want to go, not until they caught the guy. Damon could see his escape represented a serious problem for his captor, and there had to be a risk the guy would come after him again. He couldn't see his captor giving up so easily, and that wasn't much a cheerful prospect going forward. At least in the short term he would have his own personal police protection, but for how long, how long before they got bored or the budget ran out? Oh, and they'd given him this wonderful personal panic alarm, which would alert them to the bleeding obvious fact that he was in trouble, by which time it would already be far too late for them to be much help. No one could help him. No one other than Jake, anyway.

He remained agitated. Rocking on the chair. Thinking.

"Damon." It was Doctor Jim. Patience of a fucking saint Doctor Jim. And Damon considered that deserved praise.

"Hi." Damon had already noted that the last couple of days he had been sticking to short sentences. Not saying much. Not saying anything if he could avoid it.

"Time to say goodbye for now I guess. Just wanted to make sure you feel okay about heading home. Given the additional stress from, well, a lot of what you've told about about your problems dealing with your mother, I just wanted to make sure... are you sure about this?"

"Yes." Just as well he bleeding liked Doctor Jim. He'd told the guy a lot of personal shit the last two days.

"Eating any better?"

"Kind of."

"What does that mean?"

"Stopped loosing weight."

"And?"

"Not freaking out and refusing to eat any more, if that's what you mean."

"Right. That's what I mean."

"Is that why I wasn't allowed out yesterday?"

"Yes."

"It's not like I don't want to eat."

"I know that. But there was no way you were going to be walking out of here until that stabilized."

"I'm messed up. I'm not stupid."

"You're into outwitting serial killers. No, you are not stupid. So don't forget then, I'll be on call any time you need to talk, and we'll still plan to meet weekly at least for the foreseeable future. Okay, before you head out, one last question. After what we talked about last time, how you been sleeping?"

"Sleeping, fine, mostly. I don't do so badly sleeping. It's the waking up part I still have the trouble with. Waking up and working out where I am."

"And the clocks?"

"Helping. I think, I have about ten of them. It looks like, looks like I'm crazy. But, yes, it helps. As soon as I wake up, I see one of those, I know I'm safe. It's got the panic attacks under control at least."

"So. You serious about this self defense training idea of yours?"

"Yes. Serious about the idea anyway. Not seriously sure I'm ready."

"When you're ready, I think it would be a seriously good idea."

"When, seriously, do you think I'll be ready?"

"Seriously, I don't know. I think that's going to have to be your call."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Seriously, is that a smile?"

"Maybe. A seriously small one."

* * *

"You had Nick call again today. And, someone called Anna? I don't remember you mentioning her ever. I didn't even know you knew any girls."

"Spoke to her on the train. She was always on the train." His mother was learning not to push too hard. Damon was learning not to be so defensive. It was a finely balanced exercise, and not without some tension, but it was working out. "If they call again, tell them... Would you be alright if they came over some time. Not for long, just. I was talking to Doctor Jim again, and he said, well, he was pointing out at some point I would have to talk to people again, and the sooner I started making an effort, the easier things would be when school starts again. And there's Jake as well. So..." He dried up. That was probably the longest sentence he had come out with in over a week, other than talking to Jake.

"Of course dear, that's perfectly alright." She answered.

Damon glanced up, She was lying. Well, not lying, she wasn't being completely honest though. It wasn't just alright, she was positively overjoyed by the request. Damon wasn't completely convinced it was a such a good idea, but, it was one of those inevitability things. He had to give in sooner or later. It would keep people happy. And mentioning Jake as well, that had been a stroke of genius on his part, that alone kind of made it worth it. He'd been trying to work out a way of Jake being able to visit without raising any suspicions. Getting Jake over would be good, Jake was still about the only reason he was managing to stay sane.

Damon had been home two days now. He was mostly coping. Mostly coping by shutting himself in his bedroom when he started feeling too anxious or paranoid, when he just needed to be alone. So far that had been the majority of his two days home. The only extended time he spent not alone was at meal times, like now.

"Good carrots." He tried to break the silence.

"Well, thank you. I didn't think you liked carrots."

Damon froze. He didn't like carrots. He had forgotten that. He tried to regulate his breathing. This was it, the tension thing. Resisting the temptation to fly off the handle and get angry, knowing he had his parents freaking right now that they had crossed some dangerous line they knew nothing about. Take control of it. That was what he had been told, take control.

"I. Didn't. But. Carrots aren't boiled cabbage. And, I never really gave carrots a chance before. Well, now I am. I'm not saying I like all carrots, but, these ones, they're good." He managed to stammer out. The silence that followed was accompanied by a gradual dissolution of the tension he could feel in the room. He was getting better. He was aware his parents knew about the cabbage incident, the hospital had tried to feed him that. He had lost control and thrown the table across the room, then sat in the corner crying for an hour. Even Jake had struggled to talk him down on that occasion. He wasn't sure he would ever forgive cabbages for their complicity in his suffering. His mother had been strongly advised to make sure there were none around when he went home. Only Jake had managed to have the balls to push him about what he was going to do when he got back to school and they served it there. Just not eat it, he'd figured.

"I'll make sure I put them on the side then, so you can try them first."

"Thanks. And. If you want to have cabbage, if you and dad want it. That's okay. I don't want any. I don't ever want that stuff again, ever. But, You can have it. Even, on the table, while I'm eating. Just as long as I don't have to have any." Great, Damon. Why the fuck had he said that? Sitting through that meal without walking out was going to be a serious challenge. But, hey. It was a milestone. Doctor Jim liked those.

As mealtimes go, this one had been tense, fraught in places, but, he hadn't frozen up, he hadn't become irrational. He'd held it together, taking things a step at a time, it had been a pretty good effort. This was progress.

* * *

'So you worked out any way to get here?' Damon asked. He was locked in his bedroom again. Feeling pretty bored. Living in fear of leaving the house was getting boring.

'Not quite got my excuse worked out yet. But I can be there in an hour and half by bus, got that part worked out at least.' Jake had been planning.

'And your mother's okay with you disappearing off alone for the day, with the tomorrow people abductor still on the loose?'

'Well, okay isn't the word. She isn't going to like it. But I'm going off to university after next year, and I think she's actually trying to be pragmatic. She really doesn't like that idea, but, I'm going, so. I just need to play on that somehow. What about you, you figured how you might explain me turning up without getting anyone suspicious?'

'My mother not getting suspicious? She doesn't get suspicious, she just is suspicious, permanently. The nuts thing is that I think she genuinely has improved since I did get abducted. Before that it was like living in a straightjacket, maybe it still is, just feels like a less restrictive straightjacket. Anyway, got it all worked out, you just need to call on the telephone, talk to her, then we can set a time.'

'They still tracing all the calls there?'

'You are fucking paranoid, you know that? No, they stopped after I got back. Don't know why they bothered tracing calls here in the first place, in case of a ransom call I guess, but there was never one of those before.'

'Just standard procedure I guess.'

'So anyway, the call is just for the sake of my mother, so that she knows we've been talking. Then I can make up the rest.'

'I don't know. Not sure I can deal with this amount of advance planning.'

'Given the things you do without planning, it's a wonder you're still alive.'

'I'm just wonderful like that.'

'Arrogant fucker.'

'That too.'

'I got to admit, some of that arrogance is justified. I thought being telepathic was cool, you, the stuff you can do blows that away. The whole disappearing from one place and reappearing in another thing.'

Jake had smiled, it had been cool feeling like he had someone he had been able to talk to about that stuff. He knew for sure that no one else would have believed him. 'Let me tell you about that. I don't know how the fuck I did it so well those two times, because I am trying and trying to get the hang of that trick now, and my best effort since has gotten me about three or four feet across the room, and a painfully bruised arse. And you can quit fucking laughing, Damon Jackson.'

'I have to make the most of it. People here are, they're trying, they just have no clue. No fucking clue. It's all so difficult. I know it'll get better, but right now. I only genuinely laughed three times in the last ten days. How sad is that? I'm actually counting. Two of those times talking to you. I'd have lost it totally, I mean, total breakdown without having at least someone to talk to.'

'Hey, you don't owe me anything.'

'Right. Of course, even though I'd also have been killed and dumped in a hospital waste incinerator as well by now if it hadn't been for you. So, quit fucking telling me I owe you nothing.'

Jake felt a sense of frustration in Damon, the poor guy had been struggling a lot with his self confidence. Better to try and change the topic of conversation. 'So, talking about plans, how's the self defense idea going?'

'I definitely want to do it. Getting me fit, sure, building up some strength, I need that right now. Anyway, got some details on classes I can go along to. Only thing getting in the way, I'm still trying to work up courage to leave the house. Hey, I made it as far as spending an hour out back in the garden yesterday. Milestone there.'

'You've only been home for four days. You're doing okay.'

'Fuck it, Jake. I need to do better. I'm still scared of my own bloody fucking shadow.'

'Right. Self defense classes are exactly what you need to be thinking about.'

'Partly, yes, I need exactly that, defense. Because the fucker is still out there. Fucking, why did I do it Jake? None of this gets to the real problem. Why did I freeze up like that. If I'd just brutally hit the motherfucker with the chair a few more times, you know, but I couldn't. It's like a mental block, you know. I guess what I really need is to learn how to be a sociopath.'

'Not seen classes in that ever.' Jake was a little frustrated at having failed to divert the conversation away from Damon blaming himself.

'But you do see it though, don't you. You got the exact same thing. You can sense what people are feeling. Just occasionally you know exactly what they're thinking. Like, empathy, but this is empathy on acid. Tough to be a sociopath when you aren't just understanding somebody else's point of view, but you're physically, directly experiencing their feelings and perceptions. If I'd killed him, I'd have experienced being him being killed by me, which is pretty freaky to say the least. And... I couldn't do it. And I don't think there is anything there I can learn or unlearn to change that. I can defend myself to a degree, sure. But no way could I ever be the aggressor.'

'Honestly, I don't know. I never had to face hurting someone that badly, but, and I know I shouted abuse at you when you wouldn't, but you were right; courage is easy when you're not there, and I don't know if I could have done it either if that had been me instead of you.'

'You wouldn't have needed to. You can just do that thing where you disappear from one place, reappear in another, escape better than anyone. No one can ever fucking touch you. I wish I had that.'

'Don't know. Seems to me though, if we can both read minds, both do the whole telepathic thing, makes sense you ought to be able to do the disappearing trick as well.'

'Would be good. Maybe I need to try. If the bastard does come back for me, I need to be ready.'

'And it'll surprise the hell out of him. He isn't going to be expecting that, not when you vanish from a locked room and he has no clue how. Especially that being the second time you got away. You think? In a twisted way, I wish I could be there to see his face.'

'I know I need to be able to do something better than freeze up and nearly get myself killed. I fucked that part up.'

'So. You got your plan then.'

'But you don't exactly know how you do it, so you can't let me in on the secret?'

'Right. Other than that minor practicality, great plan.'

* * *

"You think if you hadn't been stoned you wouldn't have got caught?" Nick was fighting to find much to say. Fighting against what he really wanted to ask. Fighting his feelings of guilt.

"Looking for another reason to blame yourself? I don't think it would have made any difference at all." Damon found himself in the odd situation of trying to be the calm one. At some level he was aware that his parents had experienced seven days of hell of their own, but he hadn't much gotten past his own trauma to really think much about what they must have gone through. With Nick though, the level of guilt did seem disproportionate, tied up in some deeper level of conflict, and Damon was struggling through his headache to try and understand what the hell it was had Nick feeling like that.

"I thought it was the drug dealers at first. Thought they'd seen you leaving, figured you were the one had grassed on them, gone after you to teach you a lesson." Nick tried to explain.

"How did you work out it wasn't?"

"The day after, they came after me. Highlight of my week that was, being held at knifepoint by a second rate drug dealer."

"Shit, man."

"Weren't going to kill me, just cut me I think. Then I accused them of going after you when you left the party. You should have seen them. Second rate, you were already front page news by then, and they didn't have the balls to handle that kind of heat. They just let me go, swore blind it wasn't them. And I believed them, they were too scared shitless to be lying."

"They sound a bit pathetic really."

"Yeah, thanks. They held me at knifepoint, most scared I've ever been. But you're right, they were just a bunch of amateurs."

Damon stared intently at Nick, the emotion he was sensing was disappointment, and that made no sense. "You sound like you wish they had cut you."

"You're good at working things out kid, I'll give you that. But you don't know everything."

"You planned it?" All the time he'd known the guy, Damon had figured there was something going on with Nick that he had never quite worked out. He'd realized that there were depths and complexities to the guy but he'd underestimated how much Nick had managed to keep hidden from him. Damon hadn't even realized people could hide things from him. Certainly not shit like this.

"My parents, the teachers, friends, even you. You all though I was fucking perfect. All different reasons, but I was sick of it. I wanted to screw up. I wanted to screw up monumentally, and I wanted everyone to see it. Thats why I invited you, that's why I was so fucking pleased to see you turn up to the party."

Damon was beginning to understand. "You wanted to screw up so badly you'd get kicked out of university before you even got there."

"I wanted to get done for drugs offenses. Kicked out of the house by my parents. I didn't really care."

"And instead you got a commendation from the police."

"Screwed up there, didn't I?"

"I guess so." Damon answered, the conversation was taking a somewhat surreal direction.

Nick was subdued, but managing to hold back from sounding melancholy. "So tell me this. You understand despair. How do you do it, how you get past it. How do you wake up in the morning and find a reason to keep going?"

Damon hesitated, he wasn't sure he liked the emotion he could sense pervading the question. "I guess, you get to a crossroads. You give up, or you find a reason, or you make a reason." He looked up. "You're not...?"

Nick shook his head, a reluctant half smile of resignation on his face. "Not any more. I don't know what I am going to do now. And I'm not promising it won't be something else stupid. I just don't know what I want out of life. I need to work that out."

"And you looked at me, and saw someone in danger of getting stuck in the exact same trap that you got yourself in. So that's why you were acting like my fucking fairy godfather."

"Ten out of ten, little boy."

Damon shook his head. He might be able to read minds, but Nick had managed to run rings around him keeping things hidden. At the same time, he truly appreciated what Nick had been trying to do for him. Not that there was any point trying to explain that, Nick knew, Damon kept it simple; "Thanks."

"Yeah, right. I'm sorry for getting you involved. Would have been better for everyone if I'd just never invited you. I just, wanted to do something for you. Make you feel good."

"I did feel good."

"Right, you felt good. What use is that if you're dead?"

"Fuck off, Nick. How many different ways do I have to say this, it's not your fault. Alright, you want to know? It wouldn't have mattered whether you'd even had your party. The bastard had been following me. He'd been following me for weeks, maybe longer. I was pegged as his victim a long time ago. I'd have been abducted that day whatever I'd gone out and done, and nothing could have changed that."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"What the fuck did you do to get that kind of attention?"

"Long story. Fucking long story." Damon wasn't sure he even knew how to start on an explanation.

"No problem." Nick wasn't going to push. "You know what the link is between the victims though?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"So the police are making some kind of progress then."

"They don't know."

Nick reacted understandably surprised. "You didn't tell them?"

"It's complicated."

"Fuck, Damon. You know what you're doing?"

"No. Not really." Damon replied honestly.

"You're scaring me."

Damon could sense that Nick was genuinely concerned. He had trouble with the guy hiding thoughts and feelings from him, but he was sure that the stuff he did sense was honest. He could trust Nick, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that there wasn't much he could explain without starting to sound like a total basket case. "You believe in the paranormal?"

* * *

'Progress?'

'No. None.'

'You tried then?'

'Yes I've tried. Tried and tried. I can't do it.'

'Well, I don't know, maybe it doesn't work yet, not if you're still getting the headaches. I didn't have any control of anything until after I got past the headaches.'

'So, if I get kidnapped again before then, I'm just screwed.'

'Right.'

'Some fucking cheer you are.'

'What makes you think he's stupid enough to come after you again, think about this rationally. If he has any sense he'll cut his losses and go after the next victim. Assuming he doesn't get scared off altogether. You got a look at his mind, what do you think?'

'I don't know. I mean, he's driven. He feels like he's got some kind of mission in life. He intends to get answers and killing people isn't something he backs away from. Doesn't seem likely to me that he would back off altogether just because of one screw up. I think all he's doing right now is working out how the hell I got away...'

'To tighten his security. So the next poor fucker on his list can't get lucky like you did."

'Right.'

'It just doesn't make sense to me that he would come back for you instead of going after the next poor fucker.'

'So you think I being unreasonable?'

'I think you're being pragmatic and completely reasonable, I just think you're wrong.'

'I'm scared. Whether I'm wrong or right, I'm fucking scared. If I really could do the disappearing thing, it would help me feel safer. That's why I'm obsessing over it.'

'I can understand that.'

'Sorry. I didn't mean to sound...'

'Fuck off apologizing. You do it too much.'

Damon hesitated. He really appreciated that Jake was the only one not treating him with kid gloves, but sometimes the blunt attitude was tough to listen to. Especially when Jake was right. He figured it was better to give up with that discussion.

'The self defense classes, getting somewhere there. Well, managed to turn up for my first lesson anyway. It's a start.'

'What about your issue with not being able to hurt anyone, that getting in the way?'

'No, not at all. This is about defense, not attack. And it isn't about hurting anyone. It's about being able to fend someone off next time he comes for me.'

'Right.' Jake was trying not to sound like it was a downer, but he wanted to be pragmatic. 'And how long before they teach you how to fend off two guys?'

'Two guys?'

'Exactly.'

'Why two guys?'

'Because that's how many we're dealing with here. It was two guys when they moved you. Two of them loaded you into the van. Same two on the ferry, although I only saw one at the hospital. But that's the number you need to be ready to fight off; two.'

'Two?'

'Two.'

'I only ever saw the one.'

'Right, well, you were unconscious, could be why.'

'Two?'

'For sure.'

'Then the old bill have completely the wrong profile on the guy. They're looking for a sad loner working completely on his own.'

'Could explain a lot of their miserable failure to get anywhere at all even after ten murders.'

'Maybe easier to figure how they picked me up then. Sure I was stoned, but, in broad daylight, one guy, didn't make sense somehow. Especially with the whole cellphone thing.'

'Cellphone thing?'

'How they linked the abductions, the victims' crushed cellphones dumped right by where they got abducted from.'

'To stop them being tracked?'

'Right. But, not easy to handle for one guy, not so close to the scene of the crime anyway that I figured.'

'So a sidekick for the abduction part, but, that second guy wasn't in on the torture sessions?'

'No. I'd have sensed that.'

'You okay?'

'Yeah. Sorry, having trouble concentrating. Headache.'

'That's a good thing.'

'Yeah, love them, love how they're getting worse all the time.'

'Has to happen.'

'I know. So you tell me. I'm just wound up that the stupid police have got it so wrong.'

'You didn't know, wasn't your fault.'

'No, but I know now.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'Start by telling them they're after two guys, not one. At least get them started on the right track.'

* * *

"I even sleep with my clothes on. I'm that messed up."

Damon was sat on the side of the bed, rocking. That was more the pain from the headache though. Somehow he'd thought Anna was the one person he would have been able to talk to. But flinching away when she had tried to kiss him maybe hadn't got things off to a good start. He was pretty sure she wasn't all that frustrated, although it was so tough to sense anything much through the headache. Now he was getting so defensive about why he was acting freaked that she was jumping to all sorts of wrong conclusions about what had happened to him.

"So how does it feel being followed around everywhere by a plain clothes policeman." Anna tried to stay positive.

"I feel as if I don't have any freedom. Which I guess is the point."

Damon's mind kept flashing back to the simplicity of that one moment he had spent with her less than two months earlier, the innocence. An innocence now torn away from him.

"So when school starts again, do you have your bodyguard sitting at the back of the class during lessons as well?" She was making polite conversation.

"It isn't that intrusive. What'll probably happen is just like here. He sits outside in a car, I have this emergency panic switch thing. In case of trouble I press the button and he comes running. Anyway, of all places I could be, in school ought to be the safest."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. What about on the train?"

"No train. I'll be escorted to school every day."

"Shit."

"I know."

It wasn't even the physical abuse he'd suffered that was the problem. The problem was that he had no clue how to communicate the intensity of the feelings that had overwhelmed him since his escape. She couldn't see how he felt, and he had no clue how to explain it.

"I guess I hadn't thought about it, but, I really, something about that train. Seeing you every morning. And now I won't. It's just wrong." It really did bother her.

Damon had no easy answers. "Until they get the killer I'm never going to get any peace. Yeah, that part is really pissing me off."

He could look at Anna and most of the time he knew exactly what she was thinking, or at least he could when the headache wasn't getting in the way. Maybe he'd just assumed she would know exactly how he was feeling, or maybe he'd deluded himself into believing she would be able to do that because that was what he wanted to believe.

"So how are your parents taking it?" Anna asked.

"I haven't really talked to them about it. They know about the party, they know about the drugs. They make out like they think I didn't know what was in those cupcakes. I think they do know; my mother, for all her faults, she isn't stupid. But they weren't angry at me. I think she's actually proud of me. I never had that before."

Anna tried to grin seductively at him. "You managed to escape from a serial killer. Beat that."

But here, now, in this moment, it was painfully obvious she couldn't see. She couldn't see the depth of the pain and confusion in his soul, or the doubt that threatened to consume him.

Damon had to stop thinking about it. "What about you?" he asked.

"I got back with your coffee. Figured you'd wandered off. Kind of panicked a bit, given the state you were in. I was really worried. So I went back to the party, the police were still there, I managed to talk to Nick, he thought it was the dealers..."

"Yeah, he told me."

"So, we told the police what had happened. Only, I don't know. They obviously knew something we didn't. Within an hour or two they had you pegged with that serial killer."

"I still don't get how they knew so fast. Asked them about it, never got an answer." He lied, he wasn't meant to let anyone know about that. He'd told Jake, but that was different. Jake was the same as him.

"Once I heard that. I cried for three days straight. Sounds kind of soppy, doesn't it. But that's what I did. I thought you were dead."

"I kept thinking about you. But. It got to the point, I was too afraid of thinking, because I didn't think I would see you again. And... Shit. Just. Messed up. So fucking messed up."

"It's over. You're safe now."

"But I'm not. Not as long as he's still out there."

"Still scared?"

"I still wake up screaming."

"Your eyes look so much older."

"You want to see the rest of me." He joked.

"Yes." Anna was serious.

He looked at her. At first unsure. Then, understanding this was something he needed to get past, he pulled off his hat and then started to unbutton his shirt. He didn't need telepathy to see her reaction. The tears welling up in her eyes said it all.

"I know. I need to put on some weight. I lost ten pounds in a week, and I was pretty skinny to start with. I look like a fucking famine victim now."

"Oh dear God."

"I'm eating okay." Damon glanced down, the swelling around his wrists and ankles where he had been manacled had mostly gone down, he was still covered in heavy and ugly looking bruises. Countless scars, the worst of them had been stitched now, but a few still looked nasty. None of it was exactly a pretty sight. "Hey, doesn't look so bad now. Believe me, this is a lot better than I looked seven days ago when I escaped."

"Looks, all pretty tender still."

"It is. I wanted you to know, that's why I was flinching when you touched me. Not because of you."

"Thank you. Shit, Damon. You hide the scars, don't you. Emotionally, just as much as physically." She tenderly stroked his breast. "It's this bad on the inside as well, isn't it?" She couldn't see the chaos in his mind, but she had finally understood it was there.

"Yes. I wish, wish I could forget all of it. Just go, you and me, to a silent, deserted beach on a warm tropical island, and, forget the rest of the world even existed. Just close my eyes, and be there."

"Romantic sap. I'd settle for a fuck. If I thought we could get away with it."

"That, of course, would be my second choice. At least it would be if I didn't think it would hurt so much right now. As for getting away with it, no one ever comes in my room any more, not unless I say they can. I get left alone as much as I want these days."

"Anything we could get up to without it hurting too much? I mean, pity to waste that nakedness." She challenged.

"Hmmmm. time for some creative thinking I think."

* * *

'The stupid twat police officer just, doesn't believe that I'm totally reliable. Yes, he listens, writes everything down, all conscientious and shit, but he isn't listening. The profile they have, all the profiles they are working from, lone serial killers. They won't believe there were two of them.' Damon was angry.

For once Jake understood he needed to be vaguely diplomatic. 'You said yourself that you only knew about the one guy. Then you go change your story. Doesn't exactly make you sound sure of yourself.'

'I wasn't. I was fucking drugged up. You were sure though, you told me there were two of them. You followed two of them.'

'Yes. But you were unconscious, you couldn't have known. You were shot up on drugs and acting delusional when you escaped. And you tell them you could see things happening while you were sedated. It won't stand up in court. It won't get them a conviction.'

'And ignoring it isn't going to help get the bastard caught.'

'So you want to try telling them the truth?'

'Oh yeah, I was having these visions, and I can talk to people who aren't there, and was rescued by a guy who can vanish into thin air. One way ticket back to the loony bin is what that'll get me. And then they'll definitely ignore everything I told them, instead of just some of it. Or worse, have the government lock me up and experiment on me instead? No chance, no thank you. Been there, done that, didn't like it. Assuming of course that wasn't part of an enormous government conspiracy anyway. Maybe they're all in on it.'

'Tin foil hat time, hell, and I thought I was paranoid.'

'You're right. I'm getting way more paranoid. It's happening isn't it. Whatever the hell happened to you. The paranoia, the headaches.'

'Those getting worse then?'

'More frequent, more painful. No break any more. Half the time I don't even hear what people are saying, the other half the pain is so bad that I don't care what they're saying. Pretty much consistent with what you said.'

'They starting to notice?'

'Notice what? A difference? I've been acting fucked up in the head all week.'

'I don't know what to tell you, except it gets a lot worse before it gets better.'

'You know, you miserable bastard, I'm so lucky in all this traumatic stress to have you around to cheer me up.'

'You probably don't need to skip all the painkillers you know. It's...'

'I know. I just got tired of feeling like a fucking pincushion. It sounds crazy, but, at some level I prefer the pain. At least I know that's real.'

'You're disturbed.'

'Me disturbed? Okay. You want to tell me exactly what it was you were doing by the camp fire the night after your watch got stolen?'

'Oh. You saw that?'

* * *

The pain, Damon considered, was somewhat akin to what he imagined it would feel like to have a skewer stuck through the back of his eye and into his brain. Of course something pretty close to that had actually happened to him a few days earlier, so not much guess work was involved. Thankfully his parents were very tolerant of his tendency to shut himself in his room and sit in the corner and cry with the pain. For all the wrong reasons, of course, but, that didn't matter much.

He'd tried calling out to Jake a couple of times, didn't seem to be getting through. His mind felt like scrambled eggs. It had been useful a couple of times to have Jake talk him through the pain. Wasn't going to happen this time. His concentration was too far gone to make any connection.

He glanced at his watch. It would be another half hour before Jake got there. Damon was kind of nervous about that, though he wasn't quite sure why. He hadn't seen Jake since they had parted company at the shopping mall eight days earlier, although they'd been in almost constant contact that whole time. Jake was the only one who knew exactly what he'd been through, Jake was the only one who could really see through the act of normality he was putting on, the only one who really knew how he felt. And right now the only one who could help.

Damon stood up from the bed and tried to focus on breathing. That actually did help with the pain for a moment, but the respite didn't last. He found himself sitting against the wall in the corner, burying his head in his arms. He wasn't sure why that felt more comfortable, but it did.

The world felt overwhelming. First there was the heat, the burning. Inside or outside he couldn't tell. And a tension, that one was definitely inside, trying to get out, trying to break free of the bounds of his consciousness, but something was stopping it, he couldn't tell what. And a light, blinding white shining into his eyes, even when his eyes were tight shut. The worst though was the pain. Pain so intense that it grew until all he was aware of was the pain, until his entire existence seemed to be about nothing more than the pain. Until his awareness of the rest of the world around him felt no more than that of a whelk crawling on a rock. Even at it's worst, the torture hadn't gotten this bad.

"Damon?"

'You out there?'

"You didn't answer when your mom called. So, I came on up."

'Jake?'

"Right here."

"My eyes are open, but I'm not sure I can see."

"You need to, I don't know how to describe it. It's like you shift the focal point of your perception from internal to external. But first you need to turn down the volume control. You got the world coming in way too loud."

"What the fuck?"

"Okay. You want to try something? You need to look up at me, and then you need to open your mind. Like you do when you let me see what you're seeing, understand?"

Damon nodded vaguely, Jake knelt down facing him directly and gently helped him to raise his head. Damon's eyes looked blank, and Jake wasn't even sure Damon was completely aware of him at this point. He reached out and touched Damon's forehead with his finger tips. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but it did seem to improve the clarity of the connection.

Jake blinked, he saw a twisted blur between sanity and insanity, looking back at himself through Damon's eyes. He felt his way into Damon's thoughts, and gently nudged them back into balance.

Damon's breathing slowed, and he looked up, in silence, smiling. Calm, peaceful. Then closed his eyes. 'Even Anna didn't make me feel this good.'

Jake frowned, he'd just seen more than he wanted to. 'I would really rather not know anything about that.'

Damon smirked. He hadn't felt this balanced in months. He knew it was fake, the balance he was feeling was Jake's, but it made for a welcome break to the pain. 'So, what? You're controlling the flow of reality into my head, keeping it in equilibrium for me. That takes away the feeling that my mind is on fire, allows me to function.'

'Right.'

'But only as long as you're in my mind doing that.'

'Right. So, tell me what you can see.'

'I can see, a bright light, but it's like, I'm the light. Outside, there's something, a darkness surrounding me. Like a barrier. Like a shell. Something beyond, but I can't quite make out what.'

'Good. Now, push against the darkness. Push against the barrier.'

'It kind of moves, but then it resists, it pushes back.'

'Then harder. You have to push through, break it, break through. Break out. You have to break out.'

Damon's face contorted with the effort, his body becoming increasingly limp as all his energy was focussed on fighting through the dark barrier surrounding him, to the point even his breathing started to become more and more shallow. Then his eyes opened abruptly, a sharp intake of breath as he desperately tried to suck air back into his lungs, and he lurched forwards as if thrown off balance. Jake reached out and held his shoulders to steady him, then gently rolled him over so he was lying on the floor.

* * *

Damon's thoughts were momentarily disoriented, but he quickly regained his composure. He looked up to see Jake sat across the room flicking disinterestedly through a biology text book.

"This all you got?" Jake asked. "I couldn't work out where you hide the porn." He saw no point in saying something bloody obvious, like asking how Damon was. He figured he would get the answer to that question in good time.

"No porn. You know, it's so weird talking to you. Out loud, I mean. Odd. Never though about it before."

"Yeah, kind of know what you mean. About talking. About the porn, I used to hide mine down behind a radiator, until I got back from a school trip once, found my mom had decided to paint the room while I was gone. Hardest thing I ever had to talk my way out of."

"How long was I unconscious?"

"Fifteen or twenty minutes. Not long enough for me to get too bored."

"The headache's gone, totally, and..." Damon was looking at his hand, puzzled.

"And?"

"Oh wow." Damon was staring around the room in wonder. "It's weird."

Jake watched him intently, the reaction he was looking at was almost the exact same reaction he remembered having himself. Pretty easy to identify with. "No, this is real. This is normal. What you saw before, that was what was fucked up."

"I feel good, I feel, I feel like my entire life was a dream and I just woke up. And I'm fucking hungry."

Jake remembered that part pretty clearly as well. "So how about we go for a pizza?"

"I haven't been out the house in eight days." Damon reminded him.

"I know that."

"I don't know..." Damon still wasn't sure.

"And your bodyguard would tag along at a safe distance."

"I know."

"Hey, you're scared, I know what you went through. I understand that. But you're better than this. You have to stop hiding at some point."

* * *

**16: Learning Curve**

* * *

"People are looking at us." Damon tried not glance across at Jake too conspicuously. The two of them had been struggling to find much to keep the conversation going on the bus ride. It was the first time they'd not been focussed on talking about serial killers and abductions and escapes, and they were starting to realize that with that common ground taken away they didn't really have all that much in common. Jake had taken to singing along to some song he was listening to on his phone.

Jake looked slightly dismissively back at Damon. "Yeah, you do look a bit of a tit." He answered obliviously.

"Right."

"Look, I'm not trying to be offensive here, but, I'm glad I'm far enough away from home I'm not going to run into anyone I know. You, well, trying to think of a polite way of saying this, but I can't, so, fuck politeness. Your problem is that you dress like a twat."

"I know that. I don't get to choose. My mother buys my clothes for me."

"You sound pretty resigned to that."

"She let me wear the hat. I'm working on things. Slowly."

"At this rate you might even look cool before you start drawing your pension."

"I had one decent set of clothes that I bought for myself, alright, I was wearing them when I got kidnapped. Fuck knows what happened to them."

Jake softened his attack. "Untuck and unbutton your shirt. That will help."

"You haven't seen the vest I'm wearing."

"You're wearing a vest?"

"Right."

"That just seems like you're actively wanting to look like a twat."

"I just didn't need the hassle, leaving the house, she'd check I was wearing the vest."

"I'm starting to understand how you survived the torture. You were used to it. Alright, the vest, I could make that look good. Mostly because I'm not wearing dorky pants like you. So I guess we could swap."

"Here, now?"

"Right."

"People are going to look. That bloody bodyguard I have sat back there is watching us the whole time."

"He's paid to watch, he doesn't have an opinion. The rest of them, they're already looking. Cool guy hanging out with a geek, at least we can balance that out."

"I'm not exactly the kind of guy you would hang out with normally, am I?"

"No. Maybe this is a lesson for me in not judging you by how stupid you look. Maybe it's a lesson for you that you don't have to look like a twat."

"If I'm willing to half strip off on the bus."

"Right. Look, you don't have to. You don't have to do anything. Unless you want to. And if you want to, what the fuck does it matter what other people think."

"You don't much care do you?"

"No."

"I'm meant to be trying to keep a low profile."

"And that will be easier if you don't look quite so much of a twat. Trust me."

* * *

The bus was in the town center within six minutes. It was the kind of bus ride that Jake wouldn't normally have bothered with, he could easily have walked that in twenty minutes or so, but Damon's urgent need for food had pushed them into taking unusual measures.

They had swapped tops on the bus. Jake had been amused at the attention it got them from two girls sat at the back of the bus behind them. Neither was exactly his type, but what mattered was that he'd enjoyed their reaction and it always felt good to know that at least some people thought he was really cute. For Damon it had achieved the objective that it had made the two of them look much less weird a combination, and that had pretty much eliminated the odd looks they were getting.

Damon had remained pretty chilled out after that, at least he had until they'd walked the short distance from the bus stop to the pizza place, and it wasn't that people were looking at Damon particularly, it was just that Damon was feeling like they might start to at any moment. Jake quickly spotted the reason. A TV store right across from the pizza place was playing a news channel, and with disturbing regularity Damon's face was staring out from every TV screen in the shop window. The photograph they were running was a couple of years old and Damon really didn't look much like that any more, especially not after the last couple of weeks, but the idea that someone might just make the connection was enough to get Damon agitated.

"Not happy are you?" Jake asked, trying to figured if he needed to do something about it.

"No."

"Right. I'll go in, get them to change the channel." Jake told him. It was the simple solution, Jake was confident he could make up a story that would work.

"You sound like you mean that."

"I do."

Damon looked back at Jake, puzzled. The guy always sounded so sure of himself. "It's okay. I can fix it from here." Damon frowned with concentration, staring into the shop window. Changing channels he could do. The news channel switched to some wildlife documentary channel.

"Whoa. Show me again." Jake exclaimed, impressed.

"Like that." Damon hesitated, a little taken aback that Jake had reacted so strongly. The store was now playing some shopping channel. He felt pretty good, he'd actually managed to impress Jake with something.

"Bloody hell. Half an hour and the little boy is teaching me stuff."

"Fuck off calling me little boy."

"You like being called that."

"No."

"Yes. Saw that image in your mind, you like it because the guy who calls you that thinks you're well hung. And, okay, I don't want to know any more about that. But it is funny."

"It's freaky. You know, you can just read my thoughts like that, and I don't get a choice."

"Bit hypocritical, you do the same thing. How many times have you looked at people and seen them thinking way more embarrassing shit than that. Now suddenly it's freaky when you're the one on the receiving end?"

Damon had done it his whole life without really stopping to think, he really wasn't sure that made it okay, but he accepted Jake was totally right about the hypocrisy part. "I guess I know what you get up to home alone at the breakfast table with underpants on your head."

"Exactly. Now shut up about that, and show me that channel changing thing again."

Damon silently repeated the demonstration.

Jake was intrigued by the trick. He wanted to know more. "That's just up and down, how about going direct to a channel?"

"There isn't a front panel button for that. That's your limitation." Damon answered, changing the channel again.

"Hey, what the hell was that?" Jake asked. "It was different that time."

"Think they must have blocked that channel. Makes sense, this is a store window."

"Go back, do that switch again."

"What are you up to... Shit."

Jake smirked. He wasn't exactly sure how he had done it, but whatever it was that had caused the channel to block, he'd been able to stop that. However, while amusing, it didn't seem proper to stand and stare at the inappropriate display that was now showing on every screen in the store Window. Damon, he could sense was trying not to snigger. They exchanged a furtive grin, and made a semi-dignified departure across the way to the pizza place, desperately trying not to crack up with laughing. Now this was what having telekinetic abilities was really about.

* * *

The pizza place had been packed out, not unusual for a sunny Saturday lunchtime in August. Damon had been kind of relieved in a way, he was still feeling a little nervous being around so many people. Plus he really wanted to be able to talk to Jake, and that wouldn't have been so easy in a busy pizza restaurant. So they'd picked up a pizza to go, bought a couple of cans of something to drink, and had headed for the park to find somewhere quiet to sit where they could enjoy the meal. They wound up sitting pretty close to the bench Damon had passed out on just before he'd been kidnapped. Damon wasn't exactly happy with the proximity, but kept reminding himself this was another one of those milestones he had to face. Knowing his bodyguard was lurking fairly close by kept him from freaking out too much. Getting into a conversation he'd been wanting to have with Jake for days helped more.

"So, you're saying, you and me, we're not human? That is fucking nuts. How can we not be human?" Jake hadn't responded entirely sympathetically to Damon's ideas.

Damon had been working though the puzzle. Trying to understand why he'd been kidnapped, what the guy was after. In the hours and days he'd spent locked in his bedroom alone since his escape he'd started to put all the pieces together. The evidence pointed away from it being an isolated mutation, that there had been at least ten other tomorrow people before him had pretty much finally convinced him of that. There was a pattern, an identifiable genetic trait that gave them an inheritable advantage over the rest of the population. At it was pretty bleeding obvious what that had to be. So having convinced himself, now he was sat on a park bench, munching pizza, and trying to convince Jake.

"We can read minds, do telekinetic stuff like with the TVs. You can instantaneously transport yourself from one place to another just by thinking about it, those things that you see many humans doing?"

"Sure, maybe I can work a few tricks most people can't. But I can't compose music like Mozart, or paint like Picasso either. People are different."

"But we are way more different than others."

"So what if we are? What, you saying we're some kind of sleeper aliens secretly infiltrating Earth? You are totally fucking nuts if you think that."

"No, I'm not saying that. Not human means we're not Homo sapiens. We're a whole new species. Homo superior."

"Homo superior? Gay guy who likes to be on top?"

"You don't want to hear this, fine."

"Look, I can see you believe this, you're telling the truth as far as you know it. But, I'm sorry, this is all just a bit fucked up for me. I'm not some kind of freak. I have two arms, two legs, one cock, and frequently have rude fantasies about naked women. How could I be more human than that?"

"It isn't about morphology. It's more complex than that. Look, you need a speciation point plus hundreds if not thousands of years for any kind of definitive answer, I can't give you that. We're different, but not that different yet. Maybe a subspecies that has the potential to be the anagenic future of Homo sapiens if we survive and they don't. Or we become a distinct new species through cladogenic speciation. Evolution is a process, and the events driving the process right now are not clear."

"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"In thick twat terms then, to call us a new species, something would have to have happened to separate us from humans. Something fairly cataclysmic. It's tough to see what that could be, but I think it's real."

"So you're saying there was a global cataclysm and no one noticed? You see why I have an issue with this?"

"Sorry, I know there are holes, I don't have it all completely worked out. I don't have all the answers."

Jake hesitated, he wasn't sure if it was sensible to play along with Damon's delusions, but he could see the conversation was keeping the guy distracted and right now and that was more important. "Look, I don't remember much from biology, it wasn't my best subject. But two people can't define a species."

"Right. But a dozen people, all sharing a common mutation..."

"Statistically speaking," Jake suddenly found himself struggling, Damon had actually started making sense for a moment. "That would be significant. So where are the other ten?"

"Dead."

"The tomorrow people?"

"Right."

"The magic link the plod army can't seem to work out?"

"I don't think telepathic ability is exactly something they're cross referencing."

"I can see why that might be." Jake hesitated. Unsure whether to believe Damon or not. "What's your evidence?"

"I was thinking about what the guy who kidnapped me was saying. He knows something. He was trying to work out what it was made me different. It didn't exactly take much to put two and two together..."

"To get five..."

"What's your problem?"

"Leap of logic. We're different, yes. That being a factor in why you were abducted, creeps the fuck out of me, but I can see how it makes sense. That's your two and two. Tell me how you know the other ten were telepathic like you and me. That's what you're missing."

"Because I saw them in my mind, same as I saw you."

Jake was silent. That piece of information could change a lot of things. "All of them?"

"Most of them."

"You see a lot of people in your mind?"

"Just them, you."

"And how do you know that makes them telepathic?"

"The visions are nothing like seeing what people are thinking. With the visions it's the same as when I'm talking to you telepathically. I only see the images you send."

"Yeah." Jake was spooked. He knew exactly what Damon meant. "The voices I heard, I think that must be the same. Fuck. All those voices pissing me off, those were probably all the voices of tomorrow people that ended up dead."

"He's got a definite problem with us." Damon conceded.

"Inferiority complex?"

"More a persecution mania, I think."

"How much does he know?" Jake asked.

"Nothing. Not about the telepathy anyway."

"And he's trying to find out what makes us different."

"And killing us one by one in the process."

"How does he do it, work out who to grab?"

"I don't know. Maybe he drives around randomly with some kind of freak detector. What?" Damon could see there was something bothering Jake

"The people you had visions of, how many still alive?"

"Just you." Damon answered, then realized what he was saying. "Oh. Okay. Shit."

"Well." Jake replied, more trying to convince himself than Damon. "If he comes after me he'll get more than he fucking bargained for."

Damon tried, unsuccessfully, to be reassuring. "There could be any number of people on the list before he gets to you."

"You think there are more of us?"

"It would make sense. If we're a new species then a lot more. Maybe it's all the kids who feel like they don't fit in. Maybe there's nothing really wrong with them, just, they are different, like us."

"Speak for yourself, geek, I fit in just fine. We have a gift for understanding how people think and feel, how could we ever not fit in?"

"Fit in... what, with a bunch of monkeys? Because compared to us, that's what they are. Humans are just a bunch of primitive monkeys."

"Oh right, I've been accused of being arrogant at times, but that is fucking over the line."

"Right. But tell me it isn't true. Tell me you don't sometimes look at people and wonder why they're all so thick?"

"We've got a few advantages, I get that. But if you want to start claiming racial superiority then you are on fucking dangerous ground."

"I'm not claiming that. I'm just trying to make a point. Because whether you have the balls to own up or not, I can see it in your head, we're both guilty of thinking we're better than other people."

Jake smiled reluctantly. It wasn't often he lost an argument. "You're fucking irritating when you're right, little boy, you know that?"

"Takes a big man to admit he's wrong."

"Coming from someone who is of above average size, I'll take that as a complement."

"Fuck you." Damon laughed and munched down some more pizza. This was the most human he had felt in weeks, and the irony of that observation hadn't escaped him. "What's so cool about being human anyway?"

"Well..." Jake was watching an argument between two men over the other side of the street from the park. "I was about to make a deeply heartfelt and profound defense of human nature, and then that guy over there twatted the other one, and I kind of lost my train of thought."

"Shit." Damon could see the two men in the distance still facing off. The violence hadn't resulted in serious injury yet, but neither of them seemed in a mood to back down.

"Might be time we got done eating and made a move." Jake interrupted. "Not sure I want to wind up a witness if this gets ugly. We can head back and round the other way. You okay?" He was sensing a great deal of nervousness from Damon.

"I'm uncomfortable." Damon admitted. He'd handled the trip to the pizza place better than he'd anticipated, but the situation was now deteriorating rapidly.

Jake figured it really was time they headed back. "Stop watching, come on, it's freaking you out. Time to go."

"Why the fuck is no one doing anything to stop them?"

"Stop what? Two guys shouting at each other, Damon, they're just venting, pushing each other around. You see that on the street every day."

"What if they hurt each other?"

"Let them, if they want to be idiots. The police are on their way anyway, I saw someone calling them."

"So we just walk away. Some future for humanity we make." Damon was frustrated.

'Oh fucking great. Don't be an idiot.' Jake spotted an older man approaching to try and to intervene to calm things down.

"At least he's trying to help, what the fuck is wrong with you, Jake?" Damon could see the level of anger in the distance rising. The old man was making the first guy even more upset.

"See, leave alone, no problem. Two grown men, a few bruises, then an arrest for disorderly conduct. Now that one's pissed off, defensive, and he's thinking about pulling a fucking knife and going for the old man. The twat, how can be such a miserable twat?"

'Fuck it.' Damon had stepped out into the traffic.

'What are you?... Shit, Damon, don't...'

In the distance the old man had been pushed to the ground. It had taken Damon only a few seconds to get across the road. Behind him Jake was trying to fight through the traffic on the road with slightly less success. By the time Jake reached the other side of the road, Damon had already grabbed the aggressive guy by the shoulder, twisted him round, and somehow managed to knee him in the groin despite the obvious discomfort Damon had felt in doing so. By now the crowd had seen the knife and the old guy had gone very pale realizing how close he had come to becoming a knifecrime statistic. The other guy who had been involved in the dispute had already legged it.

'Think that made him forget about going for that old man?' Damon was helping the old man off the ground.

Jake was still running to catch up, 'Right, now he's pissed off at you instead. He doesn't like people like you.'

'What, hung?'

'People are laughing at him, you humiliated him.'

'So what's he's going to do, report us?'

The guy on the ground with the bruised bollocks was clearly in pain, but furious, pissed off enough to somehow be able to work past the pain, and was starting to stagger to his feet. Which was what Jake was trying to draw Damon's attention to. 'That isn't exactly the plan I'm sensing from him.'

The old guy had been shaking Damon's hand, thanking him as Jake had arrived, nodded politely, grabbed Damon's arm and pulled him to follow.

Damon had half glanced back, but didn't need any convincing. He could see the guy was now focussed on using the knife he had been about to slash the old man with to lacerate Damon's bollocks with instead. It was also clear the guy was completely mental. Criminal record and didn't care about making that worse. It was more than time to get out of there.

They only managed a short head start before the guy had recovered enough to start after them. The guy was fast, fast enough that Jake and Damon would have been seriously fucked in no time if he hadn't still been recovering from the assault. Even half limping with the pain he was managing to gain on them slowly.

Jake was more worried for Damon, his own bollocks were not as much at risk if the guy caught up with them. He was still likely to get hurt, just not as badly. Jake tried to remind himself that if Damon hadn't done what he had, some innocent little old man would have been slashed across the face by now. It was some consolation. Damon, he noted, seemed far less worried.

"He's third rate. Honestly, I've been tortured by professionals. I know." Damon shouted to Jake out loud; he hadn't quite yet learned how to telepath and run at the same time.

"A third rate testicle slasher still slashes testicles."

"Try saying that after a few pints!"

"Left."

Damon momentarily wondered if Jake had the same problem running and telepathing, or whether he was just being politely consistent, but, in the circumstances, it wasn't really that important, he wasn't about to ask. "Where we headed?"

"Across the river."

"Nearest bridge is two miles away."

"Exactly."

They dodged out of the side street and across to the riverside. There wasn't much to chose now turning right or left Damon figured, both equally likely to get them overtaken in short order. They only had about a thirty second lead, the situation wasn't looking good. Damon figured the best chance was to make a stand, try and overpower the guy. Between the two of them they ought to stand a decent chance, even if the guy they were tackling was a bit mental and had a knife.

"Not what I had in mind, little boy." Jake had been reading Damon's thoughts.

"Huh?" Damon was confused.

"Hold my hand."

"What the fuck?"

"I like you, hold my hand."

"Are you fucking...?"

"Hold my fucking hand!" Jake grabbed Damon's hand roughly, and was staring at the opposite bank of the river.

Damon felt the ground shifting beneath him as he finally worked out the plan. He held on to Jake to steady himself and he looked back to saw the guy darting out from the alleyway behind them. The guy was spinning around trying to work out how the fuck he had lost them, he hadn't been that far behind.

Jake had turned around by now as well. He was now waving both arms over his head, trying to make himself as conspicuous as possible. It wasn't helping. He started shouting: "Over here", but the guy still wasn't looking. For a moment the wind must have carried the voices the right way. The guy turned and spotted them. Jake switched from waving his arms to giving the guy the finger. The guy was staring at them, angry, and totally unable to comprehend how the two kids he had been chasing were now stood on the opposite bank of the river, safe.

"We lost him." Damon was laughing in disbelief.

"Lost your bodyguard as well unfortunately."

"Shit."

"Oh well. Now this guy, he just doesn't seem as angry as he should be."

"I think the problem is that I don't think your gesture is that easily seen from this distance. You're being too subtle." Damon joked.

"Too subtle? Okay, I'll give him not subtle."

Jake turned, dropped his pants and exposed his arse.

Damon sniggered. "Oh yes, that gesture works. He's upset now."

Jake pulled his pants back up and the two of them sat on the grass watching the wildly gesturing and helpless figure on the other side of the river. It was kind of entertaining. Damon was doubled up laughing by this point.

"You have got to teach me how to do that."

"It's easy. You just drop your pants, and kind of waggle."

"I mean the thing where you go off on a jaunt all the way across the river."

"Oh, that. Fucking impressive isn't it?"

"And you still think you're only human?"

Jake didn't answer.

* * *

Damon sat on his bed looking at the chair beside his desk. He wasn't sure the best way to try it. He wasn't particularly good at this. In fact, to be honest he was pathetic. He had never managed more than half a meter, and then not necessarily in the direction he wanted to go, and if there were anything more substantial than air in the way then no hope. Despite intense concentration he had been unable to match a jump as impressive as Jake was obviously capable of. Admittedly practicing in his bedroom he could never hope to match the scale of the river, but that was no excuse. He kept on telling himself it only required time to master the technique, at least now he knew for sure that he was capable of doing it if only he could control it.

Control, however, was a long way off yet. He couldn't even stay balanced; if he did get anywhere he would get there feeling totally disoriented and unsteady. It was like stepping off a fast moving spinning thing, he would stagger about and usually wound up flat on the floor. That made a noise, and often hurt, and it was getting tired. So he had a new plan. Much better plan. Practice while sitting down.

He relaxed and cleared his mind. He concentrated on the position of the chair. Saw himself seeing the room from the point of view of sitting in the chair. Imagined he was sitting in the chair. Started to convince himself he was sitting in the chair. He felt the pulling sensation. His vision became clouded, swirling black and purple colors, He concentrated, he was in the chair, he was in the chair. He concentrated, he could see the room as if he were sitting in the chair. Then he could feel the dark clouds retreating, he was back in the room, he was...

Half way across the room sitting on nothing. Not unsurprisingly he fell heavily onto his backside. The floor shook with the impact. He felt drained. He considered himself lucky there was nobody in. His parents would wonder what he was doing, and he wasn't sure he had a satisfactory answer. He felt silly, he would have laughed, only his arse hurt too much. Fortunately the bruise would never be seen. He had succeeded only in finding a worse way of practicing.

He remained seated a few moments longer, trying to regain some energy. It would be half an hour before he was ready to try again. It was slow going. He pulled himself delicately upright. Time for a break, he needed a cup of coffee.

Damon walked delicately down to the kitchen, the pain hadn't exactly diminished. He filled the kettle and plugged it in. He was about to flick the switch, then hesitated. Practice makes perfect. It was too soon after the jump, he told himself. He had to let himself recover. But then switches were not all that demanding, certainly not compared to teleportation. He withdrew his hand and allowed his mind to drift into the switch. Two pole, normally open. He applied a little pressure and watched as the kettle clicked on. It was certainly not a lazy way out, it required a lot of concentration even to perform the simplest task like that. His ability to concentrate was improving considerably, but it was still exhausting. He felt really tired after an afternoon of practice, and very little improvement to show for it, but for all he knew it wasn't much, it felt like a start.

The kettle boiled, he poured his coffee and wandered back to his room. He fancied some music on, but by now he was exhausted. He resorted to the old fashioned way.

He guessed he could do a lot with electronic equipment if he understood it better. Right now he could control it at only the simplest, most obvious level, by mentally pushing the buttons. The problem with doing anything more was that the complexity quickly increased beyond his ability to manipulate. But hey, even that much was all pretty impressive.

Switches were comparatively easy. Not that much more difficult than the whole remote control faking thing he'd been able to do for a long time. But back then it had all just kind of leaked out. Now he had control. Or, at least, was starting to work out the control part. It felt like being potty trained, in a twisted and disturbed kind of way. However he didn't particularly want to expend too much intellectual effort thinking about that.

He walked over to the window and glanced out through the closed curtains. His police protection guy was sitting in an unmarked parked car just across the street, watching. He wasn't too bothered, he was safe for now. But if and when the time came the bastard did come back for him, he was going to be be ready.

* * *

Jake glanced at his new watch to see the time change from 10:59 PM to 11:00PM. Another week, another Monday morning, only an hour away. Only two more weeks before the summer break was over and school started again. He wasn't sure how much he was looking forward to that, he'd been enjoying the summer in a masochistic kind of way and wasn't really ready for it to end.

Right now he ought to think of going to bed, he was tired, he needed to get the sleep. No school in the morning, but he still needed to be up early. He was trying to put it off. He didn't want tomorrow to arrive, as futile as that was given that it was just another hour away whether he liked it or not.

He sat down and started to undress. He contemplated folding the clothes, then dumped them in a 'what the hell' pile in the middle of the floor. The room was already in a mess, not much he could do to make it worse. Nothing unusual about that. Yeah, he was definitely getting old, he hated the sight of it. He snuggled down under the duvet and turned off the light. He would worry about tomorrow when tomorrow came.

He wasn't sure what bothered him so much about the day ahead. He figured it had a lot to do with the fact that it was August 23rd . His seventeenth birthday. Seventeen, he accepted, was not really all that different to sixteen, except for the fact that eighteen was closer. There was something about being eighteen that bothered him, somehow the idea of being eighteen left him cold. He would much prefer to remain on the wrong side of legal. But it was a pointless desire, change was inevitable, after all it weren't for change then he would still be hearing things. He tried to clear his mind. It was all far too philosophical to try and contemplate while lying in bed on a Sunday night.

He'd had his birthday dinner out with his parents on the Saturday. He was keeping the Monday evening for a night out with friends. It had been a decent meal. His sister had been back home over the weekend, she'd been working on her thesis all summer and had stayed on campus at her university for the most part. It had been good to catch up with her.

She'd bought him a new watch as well, he really appreciated that. Really nice one too, although it could never make up for the loss he still felt over his last watch, but this was about the next best thing. He'd reported the old one as lost, but not surprisingly the police could say only that it hadn't been handed in and that there was little more they could do.

It hadn't been the only compensation for getting older. His mother had bought him a decent pair of cordless headphones. He cynically considered that she had probably bought him those so that she didn't ever have to complain about how loud his music was any more. Not that he needed it so loud any more, not now he had the voices under control, but it was good not to have to worry when he did want to turn the volume up.

The final gift had been from his dad, a course of driving lessons. Ha, look out world, Jake Templeton Laris gets let loose in a car. That was the coolest of the presents. Those were scheduled to start once he got back to school. That would be serious fun. And really useful next time he ever needed to go out stealing ambulances.

Jake's big birthday present for himself was going to be the tickets for the Foo Fighters concert. That was going to be fucking sweet. Which, he reminded himself, was why he needed sleep, why he needed to wake up early. Tomorrow was the day he was headed to buy those. Tomorrow was the day they went on sale.

* * *

"Come on, get a move on or we'll miss the train."

"Fuck it, Jake, we aren't all as fit as you are. There'll be another train in half an hour if we miss this one." Mike wasn't acting like he was as desperate to get there as Jake needed him to be.

Jake tried to push them forwards. "But the best seats will probably be gone by then. If we can be there queuing before the place opens we might just stand a chance of getting something decent. So keep up the pace, and concentrate on breathing not talking."

"Fine." Mike responded obstinately, sounding more like he was talking to his parents.

"And if Mike had worked a bit harder this summer, he'd have that car by now and we wouldn't have to be running for a train." Dean took up the battle.

Mike wasn't about to let Dean get the last word. "Well if Dean hadn't still been in bed playing with himself when we turned up we wouldn't be running either."

"Guys, enough! Save the bitching. Focus on running."

"You were nicer when you were crazy, you know that?" Mike was almost too breathless to get the words out at this point.

They had about three minutes, and they didn't even have train tickets yet. Jake wasn't sure that they stood a chance, which pissed him off. He already knew they weren't going to be right at the front at the concert, but half an hour might make a real difference to where they did end up. If he abandoned them, he knew he could make it. But that wasn't the point. It wasn't their fault they were only human, they were still his friends, and he wasn't about to abandon them. Limit of two tickets per person, no fucking good if he got good tickets and they didn't. He decided that he wanted all of them to catch the train. Time to make use of his super powers.

He thought ahead and located three vacant ticket machines in a convenient position, next to each other, and mentally selected the destination and fare code, pushing the buttons in advance.

"Get your money ready, we might just make it."

They entered the station, he lead them to the machines he had appropriated.

"Just shove in the money and don't argue. Let's move."

He didn't give them time to think, if they thought then they might suspect something. He pulled them on, through the barriers. They raced down the escalators, he could hear the warning tone telling people to stand back from the automatic doors just before they closed. Half way down, they didn't stand a chance. He projected his mind into the closing mechanism on one of the doors. He couldn't see how it worked, it was too complicated. He stopped it, jammed the door. Seconds, how long before they would reach the train?

The mental effort combined with the strain of running was almost too much, he could feel himself weakening.

They ran through the doors just as he lost control and the doors closed. He collapsed on the carriage floor and gasped for breath. The others, fortunately, appeared equally exhausted.

But they had made it, and the others didn't suspect a thing. He was doing well. Gradually they began to recover.

"That was close." Dean panted.

Mike was unconvinced. "But was it worth dying for?"

* * *

It had taken longer than he had expected to get there, and the the ticket queue was already longer than he would have liked by the time they got in line. Then they'd been stood there in line for over an hour. It was worth it though, they had fourth row seats. He was on a high for the rest of the day.

They wandered round the shops for another hour or so before heading off for lunch at some pack-them-in, serve-them-crap burger bar. They sat down at the somewhat restricted table with their plastic trays. Cheap and nasty, but human, normal, and still fun. Mundane normality was a nice change of pace for him after the last few weeks. Plus, he was getting to get to hang out with his friends, what could be more normal than that?

He hadn't seen much of them over the summer, both of them had been pretty busy. It felt good to be be able to catch up with them again. The day had been going really well, none of the messed up feelings of being disconnected from them that he'd been fighting before the summer holiday. All the bloody fault of the happy drugs. Yeah, some kind of happy. But that was fixed now, Jake was starting to feel a lot more secure about how things were working out. Sure, at the back of his mind there were doubts, wondering how they would react if they ever found out what he'd been up to in the last few weeks. He didn't plan on telling them. He definitely didn't plan on telling them about any of the things he'd found out he could do. They already half suspected he could read their minds, and that had them nervous enough as it was. If they found out about the rest it would probably scare the crap out of them. And that was what he didn't want. Didn't want to alienate them, to set himself too far apart from them. Didn't want to lose them. He was clinging on to the normality of the friendships because that was about all he had left to convince him he was still human.

"Jake, are you still with us." Dean waved a hand in front of his eyes, 'Is there anybody there?"

"What, sorry, I was miles away. Did you say something?"

"So, now we got the tickets, what you got planned for getting us to the concert without being found out?" Dean repeated.

"Fuck all." Jake smiled. This was how he liked life.

Mike was not impressed. "Oh great. You always leave me with a great feeling of confidence, Jake."

"When have I ever let you down? Other than all those times recently."

"Seriously, since you started taking the happy drugs you've scraped through on luck, and you have to admit you've been damn lucky to get away with any of it." Mike wasn't pulling any punches today.

Dean backed him up. "You might have been totally fruitcake back then, but you were more fun."

"You guys didn't enjoy getting fourth row tickets?"

"What the fuck good is that unless you can get us to the concert?" Mike pointed out.

"And yet you both obviously still think there's a chance I can pull it off, or we wouldn't be here."

"You're still the best chance we've got. You might get lucky. To get to the concert, that's a gamble I'll willingly take." Dean was pragmatic.

Jake smiled. The two of them seemed to have grown up a lot in the last couple of months. The honesty, that much he expected from them. But they weren't usually quite as forthright in the way they expressed it. It was cool. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Luck doesn't come into it any more and I don't intend to get caught."

"That sounds like the old Jake." Mike looked at him half curiously.

"The medication wasn't doing it for me."

Dean looked shocked. "Shit, you quit taking the tablets?"

"Hey, you were the one said I was more fun when I was fruitcake."

Mike was more realistic. "Last time you quit taking them you were a basket case within forty-eight hours. You know what you're doing?"

"Yes I do."

"You're fucking scary dude." Dean sounded nervous, "I take it back, I preferred you on the happy drugs."

"You want to go to the concert or not? Because I can get you there, and you already paid for the fucking ticket."

"You always get your own way, don't you." Mike observed,

"Because I'm willing to take the risks."

Mike shook his head. "Jake, you get a perverse thrill out of taking risks. You actually enjoy this, don't you."

"Better than sex. Well, probably." Jake admitted.

Dean had lightened up considerably. He had concluded Jake was joking about the medication. "So, why exactly then did we all get two tickets so you and Mike would be able to take girlfriends?"

"Wishful thinking?" Mike offered.

Jake smirked. "I lie awake night after night thinking wishfully."

* * *

"New watch? That to replace the one that got stolen?" Damon asked.

Jake was confused. "What do you mean, stolen?"

"Stolen. I got to watch that one. Weird as fuck. But then, that's you. The other tomorrow people, the visions I had of them were comparatively normal. I just figured you had to be on drugs or something. You definitely were when your watch was stolen. Lying on the ground beside some, I don't know, some farm building it looked like."

"No drugs that time. I lost the watch. I was out shopping, had a panic attack, blacked out, when I woke up I was lying beside some farm building, and the watch was gone."

"Yeah, it was beginning of the summer holiday. First week. I remember it pretty well. Lot of weird shit going on that time. Particularly the stuff about owls."

"I don't remember anything."

"Well, I took notes. Want to see them?"

Jake nodded nervously, he was feeling more than a little uncomfortable at the revelation. "You know, it doesn't much bother me that you can read my mind, see things I wouldn't want most people seeing. Creeps the fuck out of me that you saw stuff I don't even remember. Creeps the fuck out of me my watch was taken while I was just lying there unconscious."

Damon handed over the open file. "You weren't unconscious, if you'd been unconscious then there's no way I could have seen what happened."

"Right. Guy with red hair. I just don't remember." Jake was staring at the notes. "He took my watch, not my wallet, not the booze. The watch wasn't valuable or anything, why the fuck did he take that and leave the rest?"

"Can't help you there."

"And the rest of this. I don't remember any of this. I don't dive off rooftops, I'm terrified of heights. I've never been betrayed. Most of it doesn't make sense."

"You see why I figured you were on drugs at the time?"

"Starting to. What about this address, what is that about, says something about 'must remember'?"

"You were desperate to remember the address, like somehow you knew you were going to forget everything."

"So, you find anything out about it?"

"Never checked. Meant to. Never got round to it."

"You were abducted six days later."

"Yeah."

"I was in the middle of having a panic attack. Most of the stuff in the middle is just crap, delusional crap. I'm pissed off I guess that my watch was stolen for some inexplicable reason, but, long way past too late to be worrying about that I guess."

"And the address?"

"I don't know. I admit I'm curious. But I can deal with the curiosity. What?" Jake was aware that Damon's mind was racing.

"All the other visions, it was the traumatic things I saw. Once I started checking it out, it was mostly all related to the people getting abducted. You, you had a bunch of other trauma in your life, and I know I tuned in on that. But that first part. The part about the dart gun. I've seen that in an abduction. The mind bending drugs the bastards shot us up on. Now I look at it..."

"You saying I got abducted? And then just let go? Why?"

"You were on medication. It screwed something. Whatever he was looking for, it messed that up."

"So he dumped me, and six days later took you instead?"

"Could be."

"Pretty fucking wild hypothesis there."

"I know."

"What, you think that's the abductors home address?"

"If that was him, it was something he didn't want you remembering."

"I think you're clutching at straws."

"You're probably right. But what if I'm not?"

"Nothing. Because there's nothing we can do." Jake made the dismissal sound pretty final.

* * *

Damon was frustrated. He'd finally started to feel like he was getting to point he was able to function on his own again, and now the conversation with Anna had pretty much wound up going all wrong. He was finding it difficult to connect with her without reading her mind, and he was hesitating about reading her mind because he wasn't sure she was entirely comfortable with the idea. Damon was struggling to find the right balance.

"Always a joke with you, isn't it?" She stormed angrily.

"What's wrong?"

"Right. Damon, did you even read the story? No, you just saw the headline, sniggered because it mentioned porn, and thought it was really funny."

"That's usually why you show me newspaper stories."

"This is serious."

"What about it?"

"Well, I was talking to Trisha, and it turns out, well, her friend Kate was dating this guy Stephen whose cousin Ian worked in that shop, and it turns out the manager went apeshit. The police got called and okay, the channel was blocked, and no one could work out how it happened, but the manager was in serious trouble and under pressure to blame someone, so he fired Ian, even though everyone knew Ian had nothing to do with it. I mean, unfair dismissal, sure, but who's going to press that for some sixteen year old working a Saturday retail job."

Usually Damon was pretty relaxed about letting her rant, letting her get her frustrations out. Problem was, this time he was kind of responsible for the problem. Not that she knew it, and he wasn't exactly sure he could explain any of it to her even if he wanted. "They fired him?"

"Right. And Trisha's friend's boyfriend''s cousin is out of a job. For fuck's sake, Damon.."

* * *

"How the fuck was I supposed to know? I mean, is it my fault the manager was a vindictive bastard who would do anything to blame it on someone who he knew had nothing to do with it? How can that be my fault?" Damon had taken up the rant.

"Well you're ranting about it like it is." Jake pointed out.

"Because it fucking is my fault, Jake, I just didn't think."

"You AND me, we were both wrong."

"Okay, I was expecting to have to argue with you there."

"I'm not disagreeing, we made a mistake. What I'm saying is that beating yourself up about it isn't going to help. Accept we were wrong, get over it. People make mistakes."

"We can't afford to make mistakes. We fuck up, the consequences are ten times worse than if a human fucks up."

"And that's not arrogant?"

"It's the truth. We are better, superior. Or at least we're supposed to be. You can try and get all politically correct about it, or face facts. We aren't human."

"Then how the hell are we supposed to any kind of life? How can you relate to people on equal terms if you are so certain they're inferior. And if you can't relate on equal terms, if you are that prejudiced, how can you have friends, how the fuck could you ever have any kind of meaningful relationship with anyone?"

"I don't know."

"So what. We're just damned to solitude? That might be okay for you, but it's not fucking good enough for me."

"Logically..."

"Fuck Logic, Damon. You said it yourself, something has to happen to separate us from humans, and that hasn't happened yet. It only happens if we let it."

"You think it's that easy?"

"You think it's that hard? Okay, I get it, you're pissed off about us getting that kid fired. And you're right. We do need to be more careful. But why go blowing this out of all proportion?"

"Alright Jake, answer me this. How do you handle it? Just, being able to see what people are thinking?"

"What's there to handle? Once I worked out what it was, I took advantage of it. Meant I always knew the exact right thing to say. Teachers hated it. Friends, it freaked them out a bit, but, they just though that was me. That was what I did."

"Never read things you didn't want?"

"I get, mostly, general emotions, strong opinions, vague ideas. Nothing really to get all that worked up about ever. Friends leaking embarrassing secrets, sure. But, everybody's got those, you just deal with it."

"They know you know?"

"They suspect that I know more than I admit. But no, nobody figures on you reading what they're thinking, because that isn't possible."

"Even though it is."

"They don't know that though."

"Anna does. Always says she hates how I can see through the barrier she puts around himself to make it easier to deal with people. She had a rough time of it when her parents split up a few years back, and she's still, still can't really deal with it."

"And what, you'd rather not know that?"

"No, I, it's good I know."

"I would kind of like to meet Anna some time."

"Not exactly sure how I would explain who you are."

"Meaning you've got some issues with me meeting her." Jake felt obliged to remind Damon there wasn't any point trying to talk around the truth, he could see right through crap like that.

"Her thoughts are just pornographic."

"Afraid I'll tune in on some Damon porn."

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"Probably not. Not now. Better now. Got more control."

"I'm getting better at that as well, but, I just don't know. I feel guilty. I can read her thoughts, but, she can't read mine. Doesn't seem right somehow. Just not fair."

"No it isn't fair. Come on, life's a bitch. You know that."

"I know, I just, still get bothered about it."

"Right. In perspective though, less bothered than you are by the fact your mother still buys your underwear and you get embarrassed every time Anna sees you in it. That pisses you off way more."

"Fucking justifiably, you seen my underwear?"

"Haven't had that pleasure. Got an easy solution for you though. Free-ball. Right, you hadn't thought of that, had you."

"No, I hadn't. Not a bad idea. You, you got a healthy kinky streak going there."

"And no one to inflict it on."

"Because you struggle to find humans attractive."

"That's not quite the way I would have put it."

"No, because you're still in denial about that. But you need someone your intellectual equal, and that's just been tough."

"Yeah, it is tough."

"And that isn't separating yourself from humans?"

"Alright. Look, I don't know. Maybe it is denial. But you're claiming we're so different and then you're off shagging a human. Doesn't that constitute some kind of denial as well?"

"I don't know. I used to live in a world where I understood the rules. I don't any more."

"That's your problem. You need rules to know where you stand, plans so you know where you're going. I make everything up as I go along."

"I can kind of see how that makes things easier. But it only works if you're a total control freak, which I'm not."

"And I am?"

"Yes." Damon stated unequivocally. "And I'm not in denial. I know I've got a major problem to work out about between me and Anna. Because as much as I care about her, I wouldn't have a clue where to begin trying to explain any of this shit to her. And I don't know what to do about that."

"Sorry, I wasn't meaning to..."

"It's okay."

"You managed to tell Nick though."

"Something, certainly not everything."

"Enough. He's someone I would really like to meet as well."

"Now that I can arrange. Tell you what, you want to, we were planning going dirt bike riding day after tomorrow, now I'm starting to get more comfortable leaving the house. You're welcome to come along."

"Sounds like an idea. Yeah, why not."

* * *

Jake looked down over the balcony. There was silence from the crowd, no wash of emotions, no loud thoughts. But if he wanted that, he could turn it up. He felt completely in control.

Getting the tickets had been something of a catharsis. Life had taken something of a bad trip for him over the last few months but now things were very much back on track. Sure, there was still the whole concert trip to make happen, but that was fine, he was back in his element there, making impossible things happen and enjoying the the challenge. He was confident he could pull it off however vague his plan was.

Most of all he enjoyed proving wrong anyone who had the audacity to doubt his promises. "I don't know. You still think I was bullshitting you? Are these really tickets to see Foo Fighters? Or am I just telling you what you want to hear, just trying to make you feel good?" The expression on Jake's face could best be described as smirking. He felt like he'd been doing a lot of that today.

Kath was used to his games. "I think I said tickets to see Foo Fighters front row center. Those tickets appear to be fourth row center."

"You don't have to have one." Jake pointed out, pulling the ticket away.

Kath reached out and grabbed it out of his hand. "And we still have to get there."

"We'll get there."

"Come on Jake. You're doing it again. You really mean that, or did you just say it because it was what I needed to hear?"

"You have the ticket."

"Thats not what I asked."

"You want to know the truth?" Jake asked, actually managing to sound serious. "I tell the truth far more often than people ever realize. People hear the truth, then read what the hell they want into it anyway." And half the truths he could tell, he contemplated silently, people would never believe in the first place.

"I think you say whatever the fuck you feel like. And then you do whatever it takes to twist reality around to make it fit with what you want the truth to be."

"Wow." Jake was genuinely taken aback. "You think I'm that scary?"

"Are you?"

"If you believe in something passionately enough, you can make it happen. Yes, I believe that. If that's what you're saying." That hadn't been quite what she'd meant, but it kind of worked.

"What makes you tick, Jake. You stand there staring down at that crowd. Do you really make it up? Or tell the absolute truth, safe in the knowledge that no one would ever believe you. Can you actually see what they're thinking?"

Jake remained silent for a moment. Kath was getting dangerously close to working it out. He figured he didn't mind her knowing, but he could see that she wouldn't believe him if he told her. She would have to work it out for herself.

Kath stared at him, waiting for an answer that never came. She gave up waiting. "Fuck it, pick someone. Go on... And then this time, I really am going to go and ask them."

"I didn't think you liked it when I did that."

"What's about that woman there. She always looks so miserable. Go on." Kath pointed at an old woman walking alone, walking through the crowd as if unaware of it all.

Jake opened his mind and looked. And then regretted allowing Kath to push him like that. "That woman? Her dog?"

"She has no dog."

"I know. But she's taking her dog out for a walk."

"Without the dog."

"Yeah."

"That isn't even close to true. I see her most days. Sour old woman, never smiles. No dog."

"She took the dog out, every day. Come rain or shine. Down to the riverside, cut back through the cemetery, down along here back to her house. Always the same. Dog died. She still goes out every day, does the same walk. She still looks down expecting to see the dog, still walks like she's holding the leash. She doesn't have a clue why she still does it. Dog died three years ago. In her mind she still walks that dog every day. It was all she she had. Gave her meaning. She feels so totally empty, overwhelmed with grief. She walks the dog every day because she's terrified that if she doesn't, she'll forget him, and then she'll lose her own reason for living."

"You're scaring me, Jake. You make that shit up. Where you joke about what people are thinking. Don't you?" Kath sounded uncomfortable.

"No, I tell... look, you picked her. I didn't pick her, you did. I pick people who are thinking funny things. I joke about it when it's funny. I wouldn't have picked her. She wasn't funny, she was lost. I've never seen anyone so lost, so..." Jake stood up, confused.

"What are you doing?"

"Wait there." He climbed over the seat and ran down the stairs into the square. Making his way across to where the woman had been walking away.

"Hey, excuse me. I, er, just saw you walking past, you used to walk past here a lot. I remember you from when I was a kid. You had a dog. Really nice, Jack Russell, wasn't he? Just, I remember him. That's all." Jake managed to stammer out, and without waiting for any reply, departed awkwardly to walk back to Kath who had followed him down the stairs.

Kath was looking a little freaked at the exchange. "That woman, she smiled. All the times I saw her here, I never saw her smile before."

"She just needed someone to notice. Needed to know she wasn't the only one remembered that dog."

"You remembered the dog?"

"I never knew the dog. I never saw that woman before in my life. But yeah, I'll remember the dog now."

"I just don't get you Jake." Kath looked at him blankly.

"You never did. So why start trying now?"

"You hide behind arrogance. You make out like the world is one big theme park there to entertain you, just you. But behind it all, what is really going on inside that head of yours? Because I don't think you've ever done anything for yourself. You just make it look that way. You go around telling people what they need to hear, making them feel good. Giving them what they want. Answer me this, Jake Laris, arrogant bastard... When was the last time you did something selfish, something entirely for yourself?"

Jake remained silent.

"So did I finally see through you, finally confront you with a truth that left you without an answer? Or is that silence because you know how much I always wanted to get one over on you, and once again you're giving me what I want, a selfless act to make me feel good?"

Jake smiled wryly back at her. "You'll never know."

* * *

The sun was intense, the ground hard and baked. It wasn't the ideal day for dirt bike riding.

"This looks fucking dangerous." Jake was nervous. Nick had headed out on the bike, and Jake was stood watching from the hilltop with Damon.

"You just need confidence. I mean, shit, isn't it usually you telling me that."

"Driving a car is about confidence. I'm learning that. Driving that thing Nick's on right now, that's about having a fucking death wish."

"Says the guy who once deliberately smuggled himself into the back of a van driven by a psychopathic serial killer."

"Didn't ever claim I had any sense."

"So, why don't you want to go see what we find at the address I wrote down from when the guy stole your watch."

"Because believe it or not, I'm not that nuts. I liked that watch, but it isn't worth risking my life for."

"And I was."

"I am nuts enough to do something crazy like that when I think my screwed up advice just got some poor fucker killed, if that's what you mean."

"You don't think there is a link to the serial killer then?"

"I told you, I think you're grasping at straws there. But yes, it's possible, and that is exactly why it's such a stupid idea."

"I'm just saying take a look."

"And what do you do when you get there. Okay, right, what, you knock on the door? You break in? And what if you find something, anything, what do you do then, if the police won't listen already? Remember what happened when you told them about the second guy. Think about this."

"What are we supposed to do then?"

"Leave it alone. Don't go looking for trouble."

* * *

"So answer me this, Damon, before he got abducted, was he... prone to fanciful delusions?" Jake asked. Damon was off trying his hand at riding the bike, and Jake finally had his opportunity to question Nick.

"No. And he isn't now. Who the fuck do you think you are, asking...?" Nick was momentarily angry, protective.

"He's a good judge of character, and he trusts you. So I trust you. I've only known him a few weeks, but I seriously needed to know the answer to that question. Now I know."

"Read my mind, did you?"

Jake looked up. Too bleeding obvious, a lie wouldn't work, and there was some realization in there. He wasn't sure how much Damon had told the guy, but obviously Nick knew about the mind reading. "Enough to know you were telling the truth."

"You are one of these tomorrow people then?"

"I don't know. Damon thinks I am. I think it's all fucking insane, but..."

"But you're taking the possibility seriously."

"If I want to stay alive, I might have to."

"Afraid?"

"Would you call Damon the kind of kid that got hysterical, cried in the corner hour after hour, had an problem with wetting himself...?"

"No. I wouldn't." Nick remained defensive.

"No. Tough kid. Tougher than me anyway. So me, yes I'm afraid. I'm fucking terrified. I try to pretend I don't care, but, I'm seriously fucking terrified."

"Then maybe you need to listen to the kid's ideas."

"Even if he sounds paranoid?"

"The kid understands paranoia. Better than you do."

Jake smiled and nodded. Nick was right. "You know you're wasted doing theoretical biology."

"What do you mean?"

"For someone who can't read minds, you're good at telling people the truth that they're avoiding admitting to themselves. You could do great things if you had the balls to confront your parents and go for it, do that year out you so desperately want."

"Wow. Not subtle are you. There are issues confronting them with that."

"No, they'll be pissed off because you didn't do what you were expected to do, and you don't give a damn about that. You had a problem because it's you thats conflicted. You're more desperate than ever to go do something useful with your life after you saw what happened to Damon. Same time, you're scared of the danger more than ever."

"And you claim I'm good at this?"

"Better than I am. I just read your mind. You, you did all the work, worked it all out for yourself. And I trust your judgment. And I think you're right. You just have to get past the fear. As for telling your parents, you start the conversation with talking about what happened to Damon, how you want to make a difference, do something with your life because you don't know what will happen tomorrow. I think they'll buy it. But you don't ask them, you tell them. It's your life, and it's time you took control."

"You always right?"

"I've been accused of that."

* * *

"So. Stubborn bastard, aren't you. I'm not trying to be offensive, but this passive aggressive thing, I think you get that from your mother." Jake saw no point beating about the bush.

"Reading my mind again?" Damon asked.

"You're going to check out that address whether I come along or not."

"Right."

"And I'm not going to talk you out of it?"

"No."

"Okay. That address is miles away. Closer to my house than yours. So we have to work a way to get there. Turns out I might have an idea. Start by getting you to come visit me for a change."

"You seriously are saying you've come up with a plan? I though you were the one told me plans were overrated and we should just make it all up on the spot."

"Don't know. Probably I will regret making a plan. Probably I will regret agreeing to this whole stupid idea. If we're going to do this, might as well go for the double fuck up."

"Thanks for the 'we'."

"So. Where are you at with the disappearing thing then?"

"It's not that easy. I'm trying, half succeeding, mostly falling flat on my arse."

"Well you better fucking get better at it. And fast. You've got four days."


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**17: Turned From Hunted Into Hunter**

* * *

On Tuesday Damon practiced for the last time. For one hour in the afternoon he remained out of sight, refining his navigation skills. Navigation skills being without question his first problem. With that kind of handicap, the scheme was already starting to look nearly impossible. He couldn't see how the hell he could get away with it. There was also a worry it was kind of a stupid idea. He was only going to be gone about fourteen hours, but giving his police protection the slip seemed a little on the dangerous side. But Jake was right, they couldn't exactly file a flight plan for this little jaunt. Anyway, although he hadn't quite gotten the hang of navigation, Damon figured he could teleport well enough to escape in the unlikely event he did run into trouble. It was as safe as life was ever going to get. And he had to fight his fears, even if he did still occasionally wake up screaming. Had to fight his fears precisely because he did still occasionally wake up screaming.

Second problem was that from his bedroom window all he could see was that he could see the street corner, but not around the corner. Too close and he would be in full view of the unmarked police car parked opposite, too far and there was a good chance he could materialize right in the path of someone walking from the other direction. He hadn't seen all these problems when he'd started planning this, back then it had all looked so simple. He needed another way out.

He headed for the bathroom and looked out of the window at the back. Two doors down, across the garden and the house beyond there was an alleyway that cut through the houses. It looked a lot safer, and a fuck of a lot more difficult. He was getting better at teleportation, but he knew for sure he wasn't that good. But, if he did it in two jumps, that was a possibility. One into the neighbor's garden over the back, then a second jump round the side of the house and through the locked gate. The people over the back were never in during the day. That was definitely the best idea.

On Wednesday it was for real. Of course, by definition that made it far more difficult. The first jump landed him in his own back garden, not quite far enough. It also left him with a problem, he couldn't see to navigate over the back properly. He tried checking out the fence to the other side. He wasn't so sure it was a good idea, but he didn't have much in the way of options, he had a bus to catch. The neighbor on that side, old retired lady, she never left the house before her bus pass kicked in at 9:30 AM, but he could definitely get out to the street that way.

He could see her through the window, sitting in her kitchen having breakfast. She was facing away from the garden though. If he was careful he could make it across to the side of her house and be through the garden gate before she could even turn around and look out the window. He relaxed, keeping a careful eye to make sure his neighbor remained facing the other way, and jumped. And found himself standing in her kitchen, looking over her shoulder.

Damon stood there motionless, shitting himself, convinced she must have heard him. But she hadn't moved. Couldn't she sense that there was someone suddenly standing right behind her? How could she not have noticed him?

Damon tried to relax his mind, it wasn't easy. How could he have been so stupid, how could he have materialized there of all places? He hadn't been concentrating, his mind had been wandering, and he had missed. Seriously missed. Damon had to remain silent, he didn't even want to risk breathing if he could avoid it. He turned his head to look out the window, fixed his eyes on the gate. He couldn't afford another mistake, not after this serious fuck up, he was worried the terror of seeing an intruder looming over her might seriously give her a heart attack if she turned around within the next ten seconds. She sat patiently sipping her tea, she was totally oblivious to what was going on. Damon tried to remind himself that she was only human, only human. He locked his mind onto the gate, and seconds later stumbled through it out in relief out onto the street.

How the fuck did Jake make that seem so easy?

* * *

Once Damon had finally got started on his way, the rest of the journey had taken a little over four hours in total. The bus ride to Jake's house had been pretty boring, and he'd had way too much time to think about things. Way too much time to start wondering if maybe the whole thing hadn't been such a great idea in the first place and why the fuck hadn't Jake managed to talk him out of it because that would have been all so much easier.

They'd spent a little time at Jake's house working on printing out maps and photographs of the address they were headed to. Some kind of housing estate, the area looked pretty anonymous. Then they'd grabbed some drinks and snacks and headed for the station to catch the train.

The train ride had been pretty boring. Jake had spent it wondering why the fuck he hadn't tried to talk Damon out of wanting to go on this trip. But the both of them had put so much effort into making the whole stupid expedition happen that neither of them seemed ready to give up now. Both too bloody minded to back down despite the fact that neither of them wanted to be there. The final leg of the journey had been by bus. Thankfully it had only been about an eight minute ride, because by this point Damon was feeling like he had a distinctly numb bum and he was desperately relieved when they finally stepped off at their ultimate destination.

From there they had to walk the rest of the way. The satellite photograph was a little indistinct, they could see they had to get to a row of terraced houses but it wasn't that easy to make out enough detail from the picture to work out exactly which house it was. The printed map helped some for directions, but it was apparent they were just going to have to randomly pick which end of the street they headed for, then wander back along the street until they found the place.

Another thing not so obvious from the photographs was that the area seemed to be a little run down. Not the worst of places, but not exactly somewhere either of them would have felt totally comfortable wandering around alone at the best of times.

Jake had figured from his little experience doing these things that they should walk on past the place and see what they could sense. He figured they ought to at least establish if anyone was around. He doubted the place had anything to do with Damon's abductor, but it wasn't obvious it had anything more to go with the guy who had stolen Jake's watch. Either way, if they planned to break in, they had to be careful.

The house had three stories, and old Victorian style place which had long ago been converted into flats. The number they wanted seemed to be the one on the basement level. Damon was pretty sure there was no one around.

"Sure enough to try ringing the bell?" Jake challenged.

Yeah. Damon didn't answer. He was sure. Didn't stop his heart pounding as he walked up to the door.

"If it is him that answers, kick him in the goolies, and run. That's worked for us before and if a plan works, stick with it." Jake advised pragmatically.

They already had the escape route planned, designed to give them several opportunities to make simple jumps that would totally throw off anyone trying to follow on foot. Not quite across a river, but good enough to guarantee an escape.

No answer. Cool. That was better.

"You ready for this?" Damon asked.

"Didn't fucking come all this way to take a look and walk away, did I."

Jake looked down through the windows into the front room of the place. It looked fairly threadbare and cheap inside. Used, and not too well cared for. He glanced around. No one on the street, they had to take the chance while they had it. Jake focussed, and a few seconds later found himself inside the flat. Damon arrived moments later.

'You're getting almost okay at that.' Jake joked.

There was a slightly stale smell, bad milk. Didn't look like anyone had been there for some time, maybe three or four weeks. The room opened onto a kitchen, there were still dirty dishes in the sink, so the place was definitely lived in. Damon checked the rest of the place, there were only a couple more rooms, a hall that led to a damp and very small bathroom, and an almost as small bedroom with a single wardrobe and a chest of drawers. There really wasn't much else to see.

'Find anything?' Jake called, silently.

'Nothing, you?'

"Nothing in the kitchen but that smell. Not been anyone here in weeks." Jake answered out loud.

'It is the school holidays.'

"Not sure that applies to grown ups." Jake stated with a sarcastic flatness.

'Can you fucking shut up...! What if someone hears you?'

"You sense any one anywhere around here?"

'No.'

"Then what the fuck is your problem?"

By the front door there was a pile of unopened mail. Piled up, no one had been through the door in over a month either. Damon reached down to pick up what looked like an electricity bill. Addressed to a Marcus Stellman. Familiar name, but Damon couldn't place it. And what the hell was Stellman's connection to the abductions? All he knew for sure was that the someone had mailed something to this guy, but they didn't even have a clue what that might have been. 'Wipe out, sorry. You were right, I was stupid.' He confessed reluctantly.

Damon returned to the front living room, it was the only room that seemed to contain anything worth searching through. A bookshelf, row after row of books on biology, genetics, evolutionary theory. His abductor had been spouting all that crap about survival of the fittest. It wasn't much, but it was something, maybe a connection. That or he was giving in to desperation in the search for something to at least starting to make sense.

"We need more, I don't know we're going to find it here. I really thought, I don't know. You had me believing we could do this." Jake sounded frustrated.

"Sorry."

"No, not your fault. We had to try."

"So what's left?"

"That PC, and the sports bag. From the thick dust everywhere else I would say it was obvious that those are the only two things in the room that've been touched any time within the last day or two. Except..." Jake peered at a patch of desk.

"No dust, something missing?"

"One thing collected, the rest left. What odds the only evidence would have been any use was sat right there."

"The bag contains a change of clothes, a container of now moldy sandwiches, and a box file." Damon observed, pulling out the box file to have a look through.

Jake turned his attention to the PC. He wiggled the mouse and the thing spluttered slowly out of sleep mode, and then it asked him for a password. Which was not very helpful. Rather hopelessly he tried a couple of random alternatives. The computer remained obstinately locked. He paused, then out of curiosity he hit the eject key, moments later a disc was ejected from the machine. He glanced at it, the brand matched exactly with the stack of blank discs beside the computer. He held it up to the light, this disc wasn't blank. He wasn't sure what help it would be, but he slipped it into his pocket and took a disc from the stack of blank discs to insert into the PC in its place. He felt like he needed something to take away to try and justify what was rapidly becoming a disappointment of an adventure.

"Judging by the disorganized mess in the place, I figure that the disc switch won't be noticed. Not going to get anything else out of this thing anyway, not without lugging the whole thing back with us."

"Not exactly going to be able to do that discreetly."

"And I'm not exactly sure that I stand any more chance of breaking the password, even given a month. Anything in the box?"

"Not sure. Print outs on some GPS tracking system, invoices, a page of what look like order numbers. I don't even know what we're looking for. Fuck it, you were right, this is a total waste of time."

"Sorry. For once I actually wish I'd been wrong." Jake genuinely sounded apologetic.

Damon looked quizzically back at Jake, that was not quite the reaction he had expected. "What?"

"Something seriously screwy happened to me on that camping trip. This was my one chance to get some idea what that was. I thought I didn't want to know, but now, I'm kind of feeling disappointed."

"So what now?"

"There still might be something. I don't exactly know what yet. We got that file, this disc. Got all I think we're going to find."

"Head back then?"

"Head back. See if we can take a look at what's on this disc."

"It's probably his porn collection."

"Well, now it's our porn collection. Unless its gay, in which case we don't want it. Unless you bend both ways?"

"What?"

"Just saying."

* * *

"Okay, what about, give me that sheet with the order numbers on."

"Looks like most of the numbers are crossed out." Damon passed the sheet over. He felt a little nervous having the box file out on the table on the train back, although it looked no different from any other generic box file anyone might have. And it wasn't likely that Stellman or whoever he was would just happen to turn up and sit by them on the train in the next half hour or so. "Get anything on Stellman?"

"Connection is a bit up and down on the train. Okay, Stellman. Marcus Stellman. Professor of biogenetics."

"Right, knew I knew the name. Met him once."

"Sure it's the same guy? There's another Marcus Stellman here from Utah, into bondage and scuba diving."

"There were biogenetics text books there. Didn't see any bondage gear. And this isn't Utah."

"Fair point. So, this one you know, was he the psychopathic type?"

"I spoke to him for less than a minute, and at the time I was thinking more about going out on the piss afterwards to pay much attention. I don't know."

"Okay, these are not order numbers. They're tracking numbers. So, let's find out what we get if we go to their website and try tracking them. See if we can find out what got delivered where."

"Quest Datatracking Systems. Why don't they have some kind of password protection on that?"

"Why bother? You ever tracked delivery of a parcel? None of that bothers with passwords. They figure if you have the tracking code, that is kind of proof of identity. I mean, who would guess tracking numbers like these?"

"Which number?"

"Starting at the beginning."

"Any reason?"

"It's a very good place to start, as Mary Poppins sings."

"It wasn't Mary Poppins, it was... Okay, right, you're just taking the piss now, aren't you?"

"My hobby is geek baiting."

"That anything like master baiting?"

"Good comeback, little boy. Hmmm. Tracking not available."

"What were you expecting?"

"Not sure I was expecting anything. Just curious I guess. Anyway. Fifteen more to go."

"That will fill in ten minutes I guess."

"Then we can sing songs and play 'I spy' for an hour."

"This could be one long fucking train ride. Just skip to the ones that aren't crossed out."

"Already did."

"The query came back way faster that time."

"Not timing out. Good, looks like GPS coordinates anyway. This is real time tracking. You know, somehow I have a really bad feeling about this."

"Cut and paste that into the map."

"Not much there except... Shit."

"Jake, that wave of dread you're feeling, is freaking me out just a little bit."

"Good. Look." Jake handed the phone to Damon."

"Middle of a bunch of fields."

"Try aerial view."

"Train tracks?"

"Look out the window."

"Fields. Same bunch of fields. Shit. Holy fucking shit. How?"

"Don't know. But we need to find out. Because if they can track us somehow, we're seriously fucking fucked."

* * *

"Take a look at those GPS coordinates. Get a map up. Hit them in." Jake handed the phone to Damon while he sat down at the PC. "These files look like some kind of database information, definitely not encrypted, so we might be in luck." Jake sounded cautiously hopeful.

They'd made it back to Jake's house without the boredom having sunk quite as low as 'I spy'. Now they had more important things to worry about.

It took Jake only seconds to pull up the files. "Medical records cross referenced to the national DNA database. No danger of the information being abused they promised, strictest security they promised. Looks like I have the confidential medical records of every sixteen and seventeen year old in the country."

"That sounds pretty fucking dodgy. Isn't that stuff supposed to be, well, confidential."

"Is. Hey, Damon Jackson, here you are. Confidentially you went to see a doctor last year worried about a tight foreskin?"

"That's fucking personal information."

"That's what medical records contain."

"You in there then?"

"You saw a doctor about a medical condition, sometimes your cock gets sore, what you so embarrassed about? Mine says I have a neurological imbalance that means I am potentially borderline schizophrenic. Wow, they didn't exactly mention that part of the diagnosis to me."

"No fucking secrets left with you around."

"Get used it it. So, you got anything on that GPS track?" Jake was impatient.

"Still coming through. Okay, got it. Shit. This room. Fucking accurate enough to track us down to this room. Fuck it Jake, what are we going to do? What is it they're tracking? The print out we took, or the disc? What the stupid fuck were we thinking bringing that stuff back here?"

"The tracking chips are small, but they need a power source. It doesn't make sense it's the paper or the disc."

"Then what the fuck? And what the fuck is that thing?" Damon stared nervously at a device looking like a shop barcode scanner that Jake had just pulled out of his desk drawer.

"Near field RF chip reader. Intended for detecting passive tags, but most active tags work as passive tags at the same time. Should flash up something anyway. Works great for locating hidden property tags on school equipment."

"And how the fuck do you know so much about tagging, and and why do you need a device that locates property tags on school equipment?"

"I respectfully decline to answer the question, as I honestly believe my answer might tend to incriminate me."

"You ever considered a career in politics?"

"Well, looks like I'm getting some kind of signal."

"But what from?"

"A bunch of things in the room might have property tags. All the computer games for sure, stuff like that. Need the sensitivity way down to get anything specific."

"You want me to pass the disc we took then...

"Right, got something... no... maybe not. Odd." Jake frowned. The scanner light had blinked briefly as he had first scanned the items Damon had handed him, but now there was nothing. Then Jake glanced worriedly across at Damon sitting back against the bed.

"Did we brush against something, step on something? These things can be tiny. Size of a grain of rice. Give me your shoes."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. Okay, stand up."

Damon followed orders. Jake started tracing the scanner up Damon's left leg, across and stopped, the scanner was getting a signal.

"Hey, what's up with where you're sticking that. My cock is not property tagged."

"Probably just something in your wallet or something. Need to eliminate it. You want to empty out your pockets? You didn't pick anything else up there?"

"Nothing."

"Retail inventory systems sometimes use the RF tags as well. Usually get deactivated in the store. But it also could maybe be your clothes."

"What, you want me to take all those off as well?"

"It's your wallet." Jake had picked up the wallet to check. Hold on, back in sixty seconds.

Damon watched as Jake disappeared and returned a minute later with a roll of aluminum baking foil. "Tin foil hat?"

"Near enough."

"And that works?"

"Does on school DVD players."

"Not incriminating at all."

"It should on GPS tracking chips as well. The information you had printed out there said it all. Receives GPS signals, and when a trigger signal is sent they report back on the regular cellphone network. Not much of a range. And that makes it pretty easy to block the return signal. The foil should do it."

"What's the computer say?"

"The computer says no. Still getting a signal. So it isn't your wallet."

Jake continued to trace up Damon's left side, until half way up his chest it started blinking again.

"My shirt?" Damon pulled the shirt off and handed it over.

"Nothing. Doesn't make sense."

"Right. Alright, what the fuck kind of thought is going through your head right now? I don't know what you're thinking, but it's seriously disturbing you, right?"

'Arms out." Jake scanned again. This time there was no response when he scanned past Damon's chest, but as he reached Damon's arm, the blinking light returned.

"That's my arm. That's my fucking arm, how can there be a tag in my fucking arm?"

Jake silently shook his head, then tore off a strip of the aluminum foil and wrapped it round Damon's forearm several times. He then jumped back and hit refresh on the web page.

Damon sat back down, holding the foil tight. He was looking visibly uncomfortable. "This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not..."

"Tracking not available."

"He fucking, he knows where I am. He can come and get me any time he fucking wants. I'll tear the thing out of my fucking arm, I'll tear my fucking arm off. "

"No." Jake could sense the panic rising. "No. Not now. He checks right now, it'll say no signal. You keep that foil thing there, we can tape it on, that gives us time to think. We can work this out. Alright?"

"Keep the foil armband on?"

"Right. Buys us time. Okay, it's an RF chip. Easy enough to fry, electromagnetic pulse."

"Without frying my arm?"

"Shouldn't."

"Your boundless lack of confidence is so reassuring."

"Good to hear you got your sense of sarcasm back."

"How the hell did I get a tracking thing in my arm?"

"Presumably that happened when you were locked up. Your arm was badly scarred." Jake tried not to sound too much like he was stating the bloody obvious.

"No, I know every scar. That one happened months ago. I slipped, I was piss drunk... I don't know. I don't remember falling. I remember getting up again, my arm was sliced pretty badly, I was confused, I must have been passed out in the toilet cubicle for hours. Cleaned up okay though, itched a bit for a week or two."

"Itched?" Jake felt cold. A hazy memory bubbling to the surface. Nervously he scanned his own arm. Once more, the scanner registered a signal. "When I lost the watch, I fell, passed out. When I woke up, my arm was cut up pretty badly. Itched for weeks. Fuck."

"So there is a connection."

Jake nodded, tearing off another strip of foil. "I'm tagged. There is probably a connection."

"We didn't check the other tracking numbers on the list."

"Trying number twelve on the list now." Jake was ahead of him. "It's probably my imagination, but I swear it's like, it tingles when I go to track it. I mean, not in a kinky way, but in a kind of I don't know. Spooky way. And I'll shut up now 'cause I'm talking crap."

"You always do, hold on. There you are... This room again."

"Now for the real test." Jake took the foil and wrapped it tightly around his own arm, then hit the refresh button on the web browser. The wait was frustrating.

"Doesn't come through exactly instantly does it?"

"Tracking not available."

"So, that one is you."

"Proves the connection. You, me, Stellman and the serial killer."

"Fucking creepy. That's how he locates his victims. So..."

"So, we get tagged and he comes back for us later? And I really am next on the list. Shit."

"So what are we going to do?"

"We wander around looking like a couple of twats wearing these tin foil armbands, until we work out what we're really going to do."

"Not much of a fashion statement."

"Look, Damon, I promise you I will work out a way of killing these tracking chips. I just need some time. Until then, we need to hang tight."

"What about we go to the police?"

"With what?"

"Stellman, the tags."

"We just know that he's connected, we don't know what his connection is. He could be the psycho killer, he could be the sidekick. He might have nothing directly to do with it at all. We've got no evidence. You want to make serious accusations, Damon, you need more than that. Or they're going to think you're even more of a nut job than they already do. I mean..." Jake tried not to sound so blunt, but he knew there wasn't much point faking it. Damon would easily see through that.

"I know. Just, let's, we've got something. You give up so fucking easily."

"Hey, I'm not giving up. Alright, I'm starting to get your point, I'm on the list, right, I want to know what's going on. But you tell them this, they aren't going to believe you, and that doesn't help us. Right?"

"He fucking tortured me Jake, he fucking, you know, you know what happened. Every one of those others died. And he's still out there. I have to do something."

"Sorry. Okay. Sorry. I get it. But this will just be like last time when the police ignored you, thought you were delusional."

"We have proof now."

"What proof, Damon? What the fuck are you going to say, 'oh yeah, long before I got abducted I had a vision with all these clues in, I think it's connected'."

"Alright, I admit, we're getting in to Twin Peaks territory there, but it is the truth.."

"Truth doesn't help. We need something more in the realms of reality if we want any hope of making them listen. Right now, we have nothing. And I'm not happy about that because it does leave me hanging out there at risk."

"Which is another question. He went to the effort of tagging you, and then he didn't go through with it. Why the fuck did he kidnap me, and not you?"

"Maybe he got scared off. Seriously. How long has it been?"

"And what if he didn't? What happens if the next poor fucker on his list does die, and I didn't do everything I could to help, to try and stop that. You might be able to live with that, I can't."

"Damon, I'm next on that list. If I die, I actually don't think I will be able to live with it. But, let's get this in perspective. I got my tin foil armband, I'm safe for now. We are not in a time critical situation. At least let's think this through first."

"Alright. Think. Think what?"

"You escaped, and now we've fucked up his tracking. We've got him on the run. There's no indication anyone else at all is in danger right now."

"So you're saying do nothing?"

"Right. Nothing. Come on, Damon, what would you have us doing next?"

"We could go check out Stellman. Go say hi."

"We're out of time. School starts again next week. Anyway, there's a chance the the guy is a certified psychopathic murderer. You sure you want to do something that dangerous?"

"I still wake up wondering if today will be the day. The day he's going to come for me again."

"Well that's a fuck of a lot more difficult as long as you're wearing that armband. Plus you've got the hang of the jaunting thing. You really think the twat stands a chance of getting to you now?"

"No."

"Then, I think what you really need to do is stop worrying about going after him for now. Get your priorities sorted."

Jake stared intently into Damon's eyes, trying to work out if his arguments were getting through. He wasn't all that reassured by what he saw. The only thing Damon agreed was that they were out of time. And that was only for now.

* * *

**18: Operation Piss-take**

* * *

The summer holidays were rapidly drawing to an end and Jake had a problem. A real problem. Not something silly like knowing he had been next on the list of kids to be abducted and tortured to death, he was a lot less bothered about than than he had expected to be, no, this was about the fact that with only a little over two weeks to go he still had no clue how he was going to get everyone to the concert. Yes, unlike Damon, Jake had his priorities sorted.

The concert was on a Monday night, and there was no way they could get back from there before Tuesday. That meant they were going to be away from school for at least two days. If he managed to pull this one off, it would be a miracle. Which was cool. Jake liked working miracles. It would also help him deal with his failure to get them to the street festival two months earlier, this was his chance to redeem himself after that had gone so badly wrong. This time failure wasn't an option.

Getting caught wasn't the problem. In that unlikely event he was pretty sure he would be able to talk his way out of it. No problems at all talking his way out if it now that he wasn't drugged up on happy pills any more. From his own perspective he would as soon just go, and wing it dealing with the consequences on his return. But that wasn't a plan he could sell to the others, and that was his real problem.

On top of that he still had two tickets left to get rid of. The speculative tickets they'd bought just in case either Jake or Mike had managed to get themselves dates for the event. Jake was well aware his second ticket wasn't going to get used, and Mike as well was very definitely still flying solo. That poor guy hadn't had any time for a social life in over six weeks. He had driven himself, working every waking hour over the summer, trying to get the cash together to buy the car he was after. Unfortunately the fact that he hadn't been round to show it off was a good indication to Jake that he hadn't managed to get enough cash together. The guy was going to be depressed. Even more so knowing that not only was Dean still dating Kath, but that had all the appearances of having gotten really serious over the summer.

So, Jake wondered, he might be able to offload the tickets online, or...

* * *

"Foo Fighters?" Damon wasn't sure. But then Damon never sounded sure about anything.

"You and Anna."

"How the fuck are you going to pull that one off?"

"I'm working on it." Jake skipped the part where he mentioned that he was working on it unsuccessfully.

"And what, we make my bodyguard sit outside in a car park all night?"

"That's what he gets for choosing a career as a bodyguard. Unless you give him the ticket and leave Anna out in the car park."

"I'd need more than a bodyguard to protect me if I did something that stupid."

"Jealous type is she?"

"She hates being left out. And has a definite fixation on the idea of watching me at it with another guy. And, you didn't need to know that, did you?"

"No. Not really. You didn't need to know either, did you?"

"Sometimes I wonder if being able to read minds is quite as great a trick as people might think."

"I think this conversation is getting way too deep here. So, you want to come to the concert or not?"

"Yes. On condition I can get something non-geeky to wear. And that includes getting non sexually embarrassing underwear."

"So, go the fuck shopping!"

"My mom has decided she needs to take me clothes shopping next time I go."

"And your mom has major passive aggressive issues. Got it."

"So, all the impossible things you ever did, this one has to be the real challenge. Talk my mother into letting me go clothes shopping without her."

* * *

"What's up?" Jake asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm pissed off. I just thought I could do it, I really thought I could do it , Jake. I'm just a fucking loser." Mike was miserable.

"You practically killed yourself the hours you put in. I don't think you could have done any better. How short are you?"

"For the car I wanted, eighty quid."

"That's pretty close."

"Not fucking close enough though, is it."

Jake was struggling trying to work out what it was he could say might make Mike feel better, unfortunately there didn't appear to be anything. Mike was looking inconsolable. There were other cheaper cars the guy could buy, but he had set his sights on one car in particular, and anything less than getting that one was going to be a failure. And Jake knew the frustrations of failure. He'd been there once. Just the once, but that was enough to know it sucked. There was no point allowing Mike to wallow in sorrow, Jake had to pull him out of it. "So you going to be this miserable for the concert?"

Mike shook his head in resignation at Jake outmaneuvering him. "You never fucking change, do you?"

"What? I thought you liked it when I got stern with you. Secret little fetish, it turns you on." Jake joked, sort of. He also knew it was sort of half true.

"Fuck off, Jake." Mike laughed. He was clearly getting less worried about the car thing. "Thanks for keeping your mouth shut though. I really appreciate that."

Jake tried not to frown. What the fuck was Mike talking about? For a moment it felt like he was back on the happy drugs, but no, he could sense Mike was genuinely thankful about something, Jake just had no clue what. He needed to keep Mike talking. "Come on, you honestly think I would have said anything?"

"No. Not after you promised."

Promised? When had he promised? The camping trip, Mike was thinking about the camping trip. This was about the promise he'd made to Mike the day after they'd gotten back. When he had been back on the happy drugs. Well, cool that he had kept the promise. Would help if he knew what the fuck it was that he'd promised. He still needed to keep Mike talking. "I keep my word. It's kind of important."

"Still the stupidest, you know, I just didn't think you'd be okay with it."

Jake was getting close to an answer. It was something to do with the bet, the bet that he'd totally forgotten about. "I keep my word except when I fucking forget. Shit, Mike, why didn't you remind me?"

"Huh?"

"I owe you a hundred quid."

"That? That was a joke, I mean..."

"No, that was a bet, and you won. And I fucking keep my word. I'll get you that tomorrow. I am sorry I didn't get you that sooner. Why the fuck didn't you say something?"

"Because honestly, I wasn't that bothered about the money, I was just happy that you'd promised to keep your mouth shut and that was worth more to me than the money. My reputation is sad enough as it is without anyone else knowing I get, well, you know. A kick out of exposing myself. That would just, well. Shit. Anyway..."

"I made two promises. I intend to keep them. You okay with that?" Okay. Jake had his answer, totally not the answer he'd expected, but that was not a problem.

"Yes." Mike conceded.

"Right. So. Now you have the car..."

Mike laughed. "I fucking knew there'd have to be a catch."

"Stick with me on this one," Jake pointed out. "I got some ideas."

"Will any of them get me laid though?"

"No." Jake was honest.

"So what's your plan?"

"Don't have one yet."

"No, I guess you never do."

"Last plan I had was for the festival. That was a lot of effort wasted. For now I'd rather just make things up as I go along."

"It's a pity that screwed up. Bloody good plan."

"If a plan works, don't change it..." Jake contemplated out loud.

"Huh?"

Jake jumped up and kissed Mike on the forehead. "You beautiful twat. You just gave me the answer. I know how to get us to the concert."

* * *

The new school year arrived.

That always happened, stubbornly, every year, much as Jake hated it. And to make things worse, this year the weather didn't quite seem to have got the message that summer was supposed to be over and it had remained frustratingly hot the first few days back. Indeed September was turning out to be better than half the summer had been.

So Jake once again found himself facing the annual battle to reestablish his balance and control in the face of a new and unfamiliar school year. This time there was more at stake than ever, this was his final year at the school, and this was his last chance to see just how far he could push it, to see what he could get away with.

He certainly had some overall plans for the first term back. He really did have to start thinking about his future this year, much as he would have liked to avoid that responsibility. He certainly intended to visit at least five universities in his quest to work out what the hell he was going to do. Whichever offered him the best environment for sex, drugs and parties he figured was the one he would choose. They would all give him an equally valid degree, that wasn't going to be much of a factor.

But he felt a need to make a statement. To get to the end the year and be able to look back and know that he had won some kind of definitive victory in the battle of wits between himself and the teachers. Even if no one but him was aware of the victory. And that statement was going to be the concert.

Jake had it all worked out. Inspired by Mike, he'd spent the entire last weekend of the holidays laying the groundwork. He needed to move fast, to stand a chance of pulling it off he was going to have to get Vader on board by the end of the first day back. It was audacious, it was insane, and the best part was that the school were going to help him arrange everything without even having a clue what he was up to. Best of all, when he had told his friends about the plan, they had looked at him in total disbelief that anyone could be so deluded. None of them believed he'd be able to pull it off, and that was going to make the victory even sweeter.

The actual plan he was working from had been such a bleeding obvious one in the end. Use the same trick that he'd planned for the street festival, just up the scale. The target was to be Doctor Fiedler, the idea was to convince him that they were attending a graduate conference on science careers which was being held at an exhibition centre very close to the arena the concert was being held at. None of the teachers was going to get suspicious, if they had even heard about the concert they would have dismissed any connection out of hand, it would have been too incredible a coincidence to think it could have been planned. But Jake knew otherwise, he'd long ago worked out that he could have picked almost any week of the year and found something going on nearby that he could have twisted to his plans. So Jake had spent the weekend trawling through a dozen potential nearby events looking for the one that was most likely to arouse Fiedler's interest. Then he had printed off all the information showing the date of the conference, he'd managed to get that to Fiedler before lessons started that day. Let Fiedler sort it all out with Vader.

It was perfect. Only one thing remained. To push things along he had told Fiedler that he already had tickets sorted. Fiedler's one concern had been the limited amount of time they had to get everything sorted, and getting tickets sorted could have pushed things out a few days. One little white lie had clinched the deal. But now Jake had to come up with the tickets. What was it Kath had said to him about twisting reality to match with what he told people? Anyway, getting the tickets had simply been a matter of telephoning the exhibitor hotline and telling them he was a careers teacher from the local school wanting to send some final year pupils along as part of a helping them see how their choice of degree course would affect their career prospects. All the calls had been made from school of course, there was a telephone upstairs from the library that was invariably left unattended during the lunch hour, when there was rarely anyone around there. And nobody would suspect him if he was seen using it because it was an internal telephone only, you had to call the school office to get an outside line. The secret, Jake had learned, was to telephone the school office and put on a voice, he didn't have to claim to be a teacher as long as he sounded like one, and over the telephone it was difficult to tell. He never had any problems. The office always connected the call.

By the end of lunchtime the tickets were on their way, and even better news reached him in the afternoon. Not only was the school more than happy to give them the time off to go, but they had also volunteered the school minibus and an escort to get them there. The escort part would piss the others off, but Jake was confident it wouldn't be a problem at all.

The school's motivation in providing transport had been the only thing that had brought him down to earth a little. Vader had been happy that security at the conference would of course be tight, but he'd been worried about the risk for a bunch of seventeen year olds traveling there on their own. There hadn't been an abduction in four weeks, but the school couldn't be seen to be slacking on keeping their students safe.

They would be there for two nights, staying in the halls of residence at the local University who were sponsoring the event, that had been easy to arrange as it was still a couple of weeks before the university term was due to start. Heading down there on Sunday afternoon, attending the conference all day Monday and Tuesday, then heading home late Tuesday afternoon. It would be so easy to slip away from there for the one night of the concert. Attending the conference would be a bit of a bind, but the pay off was worth it.

Vader had thought the idea was superb, strengthening links between the school and industry, he might even be able to get it in the local paper, great publicity. And Jake was getting open praise from the headmaster for having initiated the idea. Jake was happy, this was how life was meant to work.

* * *

"You think the sun shines out your fucking arse." Dean stated bluntly.

"No, it doesn't. But, if you do want sunshine any time, let me know. I'm sure I can arrange something." Jake grinned at Dean and Mike knowing full well they were too caught up in looking forward to the concert to get too upset however much he tried to wind then up.

It was Friday, and the week had gone well. The new school term wasn't turning out to be too bad at all. There was even a hint of some relaxation in some of the more stupidly restrictive school policies that had been introduced in the wake of the climate of panic that had pervaded the previous term. The news media had been filled with the reports of Damon's escape and the subsequent lull in abductions had now lasted longer than any gap there had been since the reign of terror had started, a few people were actually starting to ask if the guy might have been scared off. Of course, now that stupid people were coming to that conclusion, Jake was finding himself doubting it would all come to and end with quite so much of a whimper. But he figured it better to keep those doubts to himself.

The best part of the new term however had to be Mike's new car. Well, new second hand car. Alright, it was a death trap, but that didn't matter, it worked. Freedom at last. Well, at least it would be if they could keep Mike from being quite so absent minded.

"Shit, I forgot my keys." Mike was looking around frantically.

"I've got your keys, you were in such a hurry you left without your jacket. I've got that too. Just as well I didn't go through the pockets and find those condoms."

"You didn't?"

"No, they fell out when I grabbed the coat off the back of the chair. Sorry."

"Shit. Who saw?"

"Only Kath and Dean."

"Shit. She say anything?"

"No, but she looked seriously amused."

"Fucked that up."

"So you just using them for practice, or what?"

"It's a concert, we might meet loose women."

"Right, and you wanted to practice so you wouldn't look like a total sex newbie if you were ever lucky enough to need to put one on."

"Loose women do exist."

"Mike any woman loose enough to shag you would have to be so loose that you wouldn't be able to stay in."

Dean looked back at Mike, he had been watching the exchange silently, the smile on his face growing ever smirkier. "Think that's game, set and match to Jake."

Mike remained subdued for a moment, then came back; "So, if you can arrange sunshine on a rainy day, how about you help me out getting laid."

"You think if I could do that, I would still be a virgin? I can wind people up and point them in the right direction, hope they do what I want, but I can't make people do things. Not if they don't want."

"And that's it, isn't it. I'm just not someone anyone wants."

"What about me?"

"We had that discussion. Half the girls in school want you but your standards are so high that I don't think any human being is good enough for you."

Jake tried not to hesitate much as the accusation stung him. It was okay for Damon to go on about that, but it was kind of harder to ignore when Mike said it because Mike didn't know. Mike was just saying what he was seeing, he might well be right. And Jake still didn't really want to have to admit to himself that he might not be human. "Well, think about it this way then. You're not picky, you have options. You just have to stop acting so timid, make a statement. Let the world know what you want. Me, I'm totally fucking alone, and without any hope of ever getting laid. Period." He tried not to sound as pointed and hopeless as he felt, but he was sure he had failed there. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, Mike could recognize the frustration and by a simple consequence of schadenfreude was maybe left feeling a little better.

Maybe it was better, Jake considered, to accept he wasn't human. Then he could figure maybe his problem really was just that it was humans he didn't find attractive. And if there really were other people like him out there, other tomorrow people, then just maybe he figured he did stand a chance of actually meeting someone he could have a relationship with.

Mike brought him back to his senses. "So how do I do it then, make a statement?"

Jake contemplated. Although he wasn't exactly sure whether the answer he was contemplating was to Mike's problem or his own. "Accept who you are. Be proud of it. Make a statement. Subtlety is overrated." Jake smiled.

"Make a non-subtle statement?"

"How about this. That place that prints shirts, we go over there now. Get you one made up to wear at the concert, if you've got the balls. Says 'Male, 17, (Virgin, Straight, GSOH), looking for a shag.'"

"You're both nuts." Dean was again glancing back and forth, watching the conversation.

"Never underestimate the power of truth. The truth can set you free." Jake pointed out, and again wondered if he was saying that more for his own benefit than Mike's.

* * *

'Hey Damon, you still awake?'

'Yep.'

'You okay, you seem a little pissed off? Ready to go shopping tomorrow?'

'We got a problem there. I just found out I have to lay low for a few days. It'll hit the news tomorrow, but they called to let me know today, give me some advance warning. They found a body.'

'Shit.'

'I told them how he joked about disposing of bodies in hospital incinerators. I guess they started checking for that.'

'Who, they know?'

'They didn't say.'

'And they think you're at risk?'

'No, but it's going to be a media circus again, they're worried the endless reporting is going to have some negative impact on the progress I've made coming to terms with this over the past month. They figure I need to keep a low profile for the next few days. Well, that was the crap Doctor Jim came out with.'

'What about the concert?"

'I can still make the concert next week. No fucking way are they stopping that. It's just, tomorrow is not going to happen. I mean, you can still come over, I just can't go out.'

'Shit, Damon. This was our only opportunity to get you kitted out for the concert.'

'I know. And I'm pissed off as well. Hell, I'm the one who's going to have to turn up looking like a sad geek next week. I just, can't even jaunt out secretly. There's seriously going to be way too much attention tomorrow.'

'So no shopping.'

'It's not humanly possible.'

'So, aren't you the fucker that keeps on pointing out we aren't human?'

'What the hell are you cooking up in that scheming, devious mind of yours Jake?'

'You ever gone telepathic shopping before?'

'No.'

'Where will you be at 10:30 AM?'

'Still in bed.'

'Perfect. Don't plan on getting up. I'll call at exactly 10:30 AM. Be ready.'

* * *

Jake had to concede that everything had been going way too smoothly and it was about time that things got fucked up. As Damon had told him the Sunday papers were dominated by the one story. Everyone was talking about it, even Jake, having been reluctantly woken up at 8:00AM by a panicked Mike and Dean. He was now trying to have a three way call with despite the fact that he still barely felt awake.

"They recovered a body." Dean was trying to communicate the seriousness of something he rightly felt that Jake just wasn't getting.

"I saw the news." Jake was not buying in to the hysteria.

"So what's going to happen?" Mike asked.

Jake was impatient. "How the fuck should I know?"

"What if we get vetted again?" Mike pushed.

Dean was more apocalyptic. "What if they cancel the conference?"

"The conference is a professional conference, it isn't going to get cancelled because a body turns up. Get some perspective. You two are getting as hysterical as the rest of the bloody population." Jake was getting exasperated.

"What if Vader gets hysterical, or the school governors? And that has happened before." Mike managed to make a realistic point.

Which sent Dean over the edge. "Well, the hope was fun while it lasted."

Jake had had enough. "Fuck off, you fucking defeatist. I don't know about you two, but I'm going. I don't care what the consequences are."

"What are you going to do? Leave school on Monday evening, be instantaneously transported to the arena, then be instantaneously transported back afterwards?" Dean had clearly given up trying to sound rational.

Jake smiled, it was an interesting idea, but he hadn't worked out how to jaunt anything other than line of sight. That didn't have to stop him winding Dean up a little. "If that's the only way, that's what I'll have to do. Just a little bit unfair on you two, I would rather have company and get caught."

"You honestly think still you can talk your way out of it if the school tries to cancel the trip?" Mike asked, trying to be serious.

"I've talked my way out of crazier situations."

Dean was subdued. "I wish I had your confidence."

"Look, if we fuck up, what are they going to do? They can only punish us, anyway, I don't intend to be caught."

"And even if you did get caught, you'd talk your way out of that somehow." Mile observed.

"Somehow." Jake replied. Dean's reaction had convinced him of one thing though, Jake had to be ready to do some fast thinking on Monday, because there was every chance the school was going to overreact in the exact same way.

* * *

'Yo Damon, you there?'

'Who, I, hey Jake. I didn't think you would get there so early.'

'10:30 AM precisely. Shit, and I was worried about getting here late after my mom tried to talk me out of going out today on account of that news story.'

'I was busy, lost track of time.'

'Busy? You're fucking lying in bed, how can you be busy? Oh. Okay, no. Don't answer that. You need me to wait or..?'

'Er no, didn't finish, not, just, no. it's okay. Er. Shopping. Just, let's do the shopping.'

'Right.'

'So where are you?'

'In a shop.'

'Alright, I knew that. Hold on, I just need to adjust my, you don't want to know that either. How about we start looking for a pair of trousers?'

'On my way.'

'Okay, I can hear you fine, but I'm not getting anything visual. Just, a jumble. Nothing makes sense.'

'Not sure I've got much idea what I'm doing. I'll try... how's this?'

'Better, much better. I mean, blurred at the edges, the color is a bit patchy, and you're breaking up intermittently. Something though.'

'Can you see enough to give me some indication where to start.'

'Over there, Jeans. Never been allowed to have jeans.'

'I see them, what size?'

'Twenty-eight right now. I'm eating better but I'm still too fucking skinny. Go for thirty. With a belt. Have a look through them and I'll see what I like.'

'This is weird, going shopping with someone who isn't with me.' Jake picked out a pair.

'Yeah, they look fine. Actually, lying in bed shopping while someone else does all the work is something I could really get used to.' Damon yawned, stretched and fluffed up his pillow.

'Lazy fucking bastard.'

'Okay, shirt of some description. Black, cotton, fifteen inch collar, long sleeves to hide the tin foil. Nothing fancy.'

Jake surveyed the shirts. 'Nice.' He picked one out.

'I wouldn't be seen dead in it. The color!'

'I thought you were having problems with colors?'

'I'd have a problem with that color. No way, I'll make do with black.'

'I'm so glad you appreciate my taste, I was looking at that one for myself. How about this one for you?'

'Fine. Socks, white?'

'No problem. Jacket next, shoes last - they could pose a problem.'

'I could do with a decent jacket, my mom bought the last one I had, it was, well, shit really. Will your cash hold out?'

'So far. Kind of tight for cash right now after paying up the bet I lost with Mike, but...'

'Hold it, that one on the model.' Damon interrupted.

'Which model?' Jake looked round.

'No slow down, left a bit.'

'What this one?'

'No, too far, back a bit.'

'Here?'

'No, nearer, right a bit. Hold it that's it, stop.'

Jake stopped trying not to gesture. 'That jacket?'

'Yes, exactly that jacket.'

'Size?'

'Thirty four.'

'Hold on, I can't see any on the rails.'

'There!' Damon pointed out.

'Where?'

'Right in front of your eyes.'

'I can't see them.'

'I can and I'm not even there.'

'There!' Jake had spotted it.

'Yes, there. Congratulations.'

Jake pulled it off the rail. 'I'm a thirty-six, this thing would swamp me.'

Damon was uncertain. 'You're right. Looks big, hold it up.'

'Sorry, skinny boy, but you would look stupid in that.'

'Can you see anything smaller there?'

'No, hold on. Okay, maybe. I don't know. What about this one?'

'Try it on.'

Jake was already ahead of him. 'Tight, hey look in the mirror, can you see?'

'I can't make much out, something about the reflection, I seem to be loosing contrast. Go for it, you can always go back and change it for me if it doesn't fit.'

'Yeah, right. I enjoy being your fucking slave.'

'Underpants.' Damon replied.

'Is that a statement of derision or a request?'

'I want to try a leopard-skin thong.'

'Scary thing is, even at this distance I can tell that request is only half a sarcastic attempt to wind me up.' Jake observed.

'Silk boxers?'

'I can handle you in silk boxers. Okay, I didn't say that. Shoes?'

'Trainers, size nine. Always had to have sensible shoes before. There's no easy way of doing this. What size do you take?'

'Eight. You have big feet, little boy, why does that not surprise me? So I can just pretend to try them on, try a couple, let you choose the style, and hope they fit when I get them back.'

'Shouldn't be too much of a problem with trainers. Show me some possibilities.'

'Plenty of styles, how many are available in a nine I don't know.'

'Top left, with the thin red stripe.'

'Eight, eight and a half, seven, nine. I have a nine.'

'Problem solved, I'll take them. You finish off and make your way here alright now?'

'No problem, I'll grab a take-out on the way back, what do you fancy?'

'Fries with something. Hot dog, burger, fish, whatever they serve wherever you end up.'

'I should be there in around twenty minutes.'

'Right, but, no need to hurry.' Damon deadpanned.

'S'okay, I'll knock before I materialize in your bedroom.' Jake laughed, then looked up to see a shop assistant. 'Private joke about...' He started to think to her, then checked himself. "Private joke about trainers with red stripes." He said out loud, speaking properly for the first time in hours. A little uneven, but at least he knew he hadn't forgotten how to do it.

* * *

Damon was up and about by the time Jake had arrived. They had sat in the kitchen eating burgers, trying to have an out loud conversation about something totally innocuous while keeping a telepathic conversation about the shopping experience going at the same time. It had been pretty amusing. Jake could sense that Damon needed the distraction. Although Damon hadn't been under any illusions as to what had happened to the other victims, he was finding the day's reminder difficult to deal with despite his protestations.

They retired to Damon's bedroom to play computer games. They could also talk more freely. While it was possible to say things telepathically when other people were around, it was tough to keep a whole conversation going without the silence looking pretty weird to anyone watching.

"So what exactly happened with Nick?" Jake had picked up something was up during their conversation in the kitchen, but had quickly realized he wasn't going to get any answers sat there.

"Yeah, what exactly did you say to him when we went dirt biking?"

Jake shrugged. "The usual."

"He had a blazing row with his parents. Told them he wasn't going to university. He signed up with some missionary aid thing, and he's going off to do relief work in Northern Iraq."

"You're fucking... you're not fucking kidding me. How are his parents taking that?"

"Not well. I mean, better than they were at first, but. They were fucking pissed. Kind of worked out though."

"Usually does."

Damon shook his head as if in disbelief at Jake's arrogance. "It was what he really wanted to do. You just do shit like that to people, don't you."

Jake was unapologetic. "It isn't just dorks like you can get trapped. Cool guys have to fight expectations as well."

"What about you, what's your secret unfulfilled desire?"

"I don't have one. I'm perfect."

"You still got some work to do on your arrogance."

"I'm happy being arrogant."

But Damon could see easily there was a chink in Jake's armor here, one thing Jake had avoided mentioning he wasn't so good at. "Happy to hide behind your arrogance most of the time. Except, you're finding that difficult when you're driving."

"Reading my mind? Cool."

"Something about your driving instructor. You're doing okay, but he does everything he can to make you think you're not."

"Think he must have been some ex-sergeant major. Barks orders, very formal. But it's okay. I think I'll get there. I managed the stolen ambulance fine. Never mentioned that to him though, not sure he would have approved. Be so much easier when I can just drive over here though, that bus ride is not fun."

"Sucks that you couldn't just teleport yourself all the way here instead. You're getting pretty good at it.'

"Not that good. I don't think it's that magical. Well, it is fucking magical, but, it's still pretty much a line of sight thing only."

"Pity. It would be so much easier if we could just jaunt everywhere. Wouldn't need a car, wouldn't need to drive."

"You don't want to learn to drive?"

"Figure I will, not really thought about it. Just would prefer jaunting. Cheaper."

"Totally cheaper. Cars are expensive, even crap ones like Mike got. Fuel is way too expensive. And the driving lessons aren't exactly cheap."

"You don't think it's possible, I mean, jaunting further than line of sight?"

"Might be. I wouldn't have a clue how to do it though. Although I admit, I don't exactly know how I do what I do now. I kind of reach out my mind to the place I want to get to, but, then how do you reach out your mind to a place that you can't see?"

"Don't know. Would be cool though."

"Would make a lot of things in life a fuck of a lot easier. Getting over here, and getting to the concert, that would be a piece of piss if we could just jaunt there."

"Worried there'll be any trouble getting away next weekend?" Damon wasn't too concerned, he was fairly confident of Jake's ability to make things happen. Even if Jake didn't look like he felt so certain.

"I'll find out tomorrow. Sort it out tomorrow."

"You really hate planning things out in too much detail, don't you."

"Some things just can't be planned. I won't know what to say until I look through Vader's eyes and see what he's thinking. I can't plan that."

"You're into outwitting murderous bloody psychopaths in your spare time. I don't see some school teacher being a problem."

"You know me too fucking well, Damon Jackson."

"Me, I got no problem going. If I say I want to go, I just tell them I need to do it, make out that it's a milestone, just something I have to face as part of recovering from the trauma of being tortured and nearly murdered. I don't really get any arguments when I play that card. And saying Doctor Jim thinks it's a good idea always trumps everything."

"How is the trauma recovery going? For real, I mean, not the fake shit you tell everyone else."

"I'm still pretty fucked up. Still wake up panicked now and then, still hide in the corner crying because I can't escape thinking about what happened. Less now. A lot less, but, still not easy. On the other hand, less afraid about getting caught again. More confident in myself, hey, self defense lessons are great for that, those are going really well."

"Yeah, I think you've told me that more than once." Jake laughed.

"I can do the disappearing thing, and I'm really starting to believe you're right, we've got the guy on the run. Longest time between abductions now this this whole thing started. And then I have so many excuses now to make life at home more tolerable, my mom is so much more reasonable now. So it's all kind of ups and downs. But, gradually, the ups are starting to win out. I'm fucking pumped about going to the concert. That will be sweet."

"And as a bonus, you won't have to look like a tosser."

"Yeah, what exactly are you making this guy Mike wear?"

"He won't look like a tosser, he's a good guy, his problem is that he's too anonymous in a crowd. Well, with that shirt, he'll get noticed. And it's what they call self-deprecating, he won't look sad, he'll look cheeky. And that will be great for his confidence. Fuck knows, it might even work."

"So what about me? Seriously, that was my first time ever picking out my own clothes. I figured you would have stopped me if I started picking out anything was going to make me look like a total twat, but, I haven't got a clue. Just picked things I wasn't allowed to have before mostly."

"Try them on and see. I mean, as I see it you won't stand out, but, for you right now that's a good thing."

"A bloody good thing. And not standing out is exactly what I'm looking for."

"On which note, see your hair is growing back in, kind of, and the new haircut works."

"My mother hates it."

"Cool."

"Thinks it's too severe."

"Which is why it works. Pretty tough to see the mess he made of it any more. So go on, you need to try that stuff on, need to find out now anyway, in case I have to take anything back before I head out this afternoon."

"What, right now?"

"What's wrong, bothered about stripping down to your embarrassing underwear while I watch?"

"Not exactly. Just, thing is, I took that advice you gave me. I'm not wearing any."

"So, if you aren't wearing embarrassing underwear, what the fuck have you got to be embarrassed about?"

* * *

None of the clothes had needed taking back, and Jake had hung out there playing computer games most of the afternoon. It had helped keep his mind off what he was going to face come Monday morning. As he had watched the TV news on the Sunday evening he had started to realize the truth of the old saying that only two things were infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and that the former wasn't a certainty. Jake was aware that Monday morning was going to be an uphill battle.

So it wasn't very surprising to arrive to find out that Vader was afraid. Afraid of the reaction there might be, not of the parents directly, but certainly of the board of governors. Of course the board was afraid of the reaction of the parents council. Afraid because in such a charged situation there was a danger of things rapidly escalating into a confrontation if the governors did anything that was seen to endanger the children. There wasn't really any elevated level of danger, however the conclusions of stupid and badly informed parents were not always going to be logical. Indeed the chances were high that they were going to reach the wrong conclusion.

The problem for Jake was that sheep mobs were not so easily manipulated. He needed to pull them out of the equation somehow.

"The conference has stepped up security. The school is directly supervising the transport there and back. You understand risk analysis, you taught a class in this. We are safer going to this conference that we would be coming to and from school those two days." An appeal to Vader's intelligence always helped.

"The parents might not all see it that way. Few of them have a keen, reasoning mind like yours."

The set up had given Jake the response he needed. Now he could make his real play. "The trip isn't compulsory. If doing what the parents want is the right thing politically, and I understand that their wishes have to be respected, then ask the parents of those pupils going on the trip. Let them decide. If enough of those specific parents approve, enough that the trip remains viable, then no one can say you weren't acting with a proper moral authority."

Jake looked directly at Vader. It was rarely he was so blunt in confessing his awareness of the politics of decision making, he preferred to be seen as more naïve on the whole, but he had less than a year left at the school, and this trip was now too important not to go balls to the wall to make it happen. He'd taken the decision out of the hands of the mob, and put into the hands of the parents of a few friends. People who he could approach and convince individually if he needed.

And he could see Vader was sold on the idea, Vader could be sure of following the right course of action because the decision would be out of his hands. And the board of governors would like it even more, and for the exact same reason.

* * *

Jake walked away able to claim a victory. It more than made up for how miserable he had felt the previous time having to go tell the likes of Dean and Mike about his failure.

"Here's the deal. Tell your parents, the school wants to consult with them first. Tell them the school thinks the trip is perfectly safe, as do the organizers of the conference. Tell them the school will understand and respect their decisions, even if they want to withdraw you from the trip. But tell them you want to go. And tell them that sometimes you have to draw a line, sometimes you have to stand up against those who would use terror as a weapon."

"You're fucking kidding me." Dean laughed.

"Balls to the wall. We make this happen. Pass it on."

"And this is why I fucking love you." Mike smiled.

"What, fighting their fear of pedophiles with patriotism borne on the wings of the fight against terrorism, playing one fucking paranoia off against another? Life doesn't get much better." Jake confessed.

"Fucking, you really do get a bigger lob on from beating the odds getting us to this concert than you will from actually going to the concert." Dean observed coolly.

"Hey, a guy has to get his kicks somehow. But the concert will be fucking mental as well."

* * *

Jake spent most of the next five days holding his breath, hoping he wasn't going to need to intervene again to keep things on track. But the days passed without incident, and Sunday safely arrived.

Jake was the first to turn up at school where they were meeting to be picked up by the bus. He had been dropped off early, carrying his sports bag lightly packed with everything he figured he needed to take for the two days. Which wasn't much. Booze, he figured, they would be able to get pretty easily when they were there.

Kath had been the second to get there. The moment her parents had left she had launched into a rant. "You're fucking wearing a concert t-shirt. Are you insane?"

"I like Foo Fighters. Fiedler won't have a clue. Chill out, don't die of stress."

"You have a pretty twisted idea of chilling out if that shirt is an example."

"You think Mike will be wearing his 'looking for a shag' shirt for the bus?"

Kath laughed, it was tough to stay too freaked out by Jake for long. "Oddly, I think that is one guy who has way more sense than you."

"Great shirt though."'

"Insanely enough, yes. Not sure what he'll do with the shirt if it works though."

"Keep it, get a big marker, visibly cross out the 'virgin' part. It becomes even funnier, and a whole lot less embarrassing to wear."

"You think of everything, don't you."

"I try."

"You really get a kick out of this, don't you. The jazz. The thrill of making shit happen."

"Absolutely. Makes life worth living. What is it you want out of life? You telling me all you want to do is get through university, get a job, get married, two kids, a mortgage, retire and live happily ever after? No more excitement?"

"Jake, that isn't a bad thing." Kath tried to argue.

"So you changed your mind about the concert?"

"Yeah well, no need for life to get that boring. And after all that effort you went to to get the ticket, no way am I missing it."

Jake could see there was something that still had her itching to speak her mind. He figured he wouldn't get any peace until he dealt with it. "So what's your problem?"

"You talked the parents council and the board of governors into letting this go ahead. This isn't little league just getting away with stuff any more." Kath was hesitant to continue, but wasn't going to let that stop her. "You're acting like you really don't care if you get caught or not, like it doesn't mean anything. You sure you're keeping this trip in perspective?"

Jake considered that getting caught was a fairly minor concern in the scheme of things. He was happy with his priorities, even if it wasn't so easy to explain that to Kath. "I am keeping the concert in perspective. Getting caught for that is the least of my worries. I'll be happy to make it through the next year of my life and still be alive."

"Usually when you tell jokes like that, you smile more."

'Well, I'm not looking to get killed." James smiled, that part at least was honest. For all his protestations, he couldn't quite get it totally out of his mind that he had been the next victim on the list at one time, and that only a tin foil armband was keeping him hidden from the killer. Sure he could escape easily if he did get abducted, but, he just knew how fucked up Damon still was even after escaping, and that thought did give him cause for concern at times. He tried to lighten up. It was tough, as serious as he was feeling about everything that was going on, but he had to keep up a front.

Kath laughed, satisfied. "Not much hope for you in that case. Any last requests?"

"Yeah, about the funeral. Make it fun, and don't let anyone wear black. Get them to play party music and spike the drinks. Enjoy it, you'll only have one opportunity. Well, unless I can maybe talk Death into giving me a second chance."

"You fucking would manage it as well, Jake Laris. If anyone could talk their way out of death it would be you. Pity, just when I was just beginning to look forward to the funeral."

Others started drifting in, and the conversation became more generic. Jake would have loved to have limited the trip to himself, Kath, Dean and Mike, but he had to accept that a few of the other kids who had been interested in turning up had half sensible parents who were still letting them come along. Seven people in total, not bad.

On the whole, despite a mild underlying nervousness, Jake was getting a real kick out of this. Kath was right, he was on the jazz.

* * *

**19: Face of the Enemy**

* * *

It hadn't taken long to ditch Fiedler after they'd finished dinner that evening. They'd made out they were tired and looking for an early night, and Fiedler had been stupid enough to believe them. So they'd left him watching TV with the other three kids from school who had turned up, then they'd doubled back to hit the bar. They weren't planning on making a heavy night of it, they wanted to be in good shape for the concert the next night, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves at all.

"Jake, Jake over here."

Jake twisted round to look. The student bar was pretty dark and there were any number of distracting colored spotlights everywhere to make it even harder to see, and it was insanely loud in there, crowded, people pushing everywhere, and someone was shouting to him. He knew who it was, but he couldn't see the guy anywhere. 'You out there, little boy?' Jake asked.

'Fuck off calling me little boy.' Damon retorted.

'You there, big boy?'

'Okay. Just fuck off. Completely.'

'Show me what you can see.' Jake closed his eyes momentarily, same place, same ceiling for sure, different line of sight. Damon couldn't be far away.

Jake kept staring through the crowd. He reached out with his mind, it was difficult to focus with so many people around. He tried to follow the direction of the way the lights had been, and caught sight of a figure walking against the flow, grinning malevolently and now headed in a general direction towards him, Jake turned and pushed sideways, this was where the explanations were all going to get a little awkward.

'Introducing you as a friend of my cousin's...'

'Right, I'm Damon Smart. My bodyguard insisted I used a false name. No I idea why the fuck he cares, I'm okay with staying a bit more anonymous though, nobody ever really recognizes my face from that really old, really bad picture the press got sent from the school, especially not with the new haircut, but my name does get recognized.'

'No problem.'

'What's your cousin called?' Damon asked.

'Nick.'

'Seriously?'

'Seriously, I have a cousin called Nick, none of this lot really know him other than by name. It'll work.' Jake said silently. Then he continued out loud. "Hey, Damon Smart, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Fuck you too, Jake." Damon replied.

"Guys, this is Damon Smart, friend of my cousin Nick's. You guys ever meet Nick?"

"No, you mentioned him a couple of times." Mike admitted.

"I know Nick."

Jake looked across to see who was talking. Someone he didn't recognize, which meant he knew who it had to be. "You must be Anna, been told stories about you."

"Right. Scary," She replied, "I have no clue who the fuck you are."

'What are you doing to me, Damon?' Jake asked.

Damon jumped in to explain. "This is the guy who got us the tickets."

"Oh, right, sorry. I do know you. Damon here just managed to tell me about you without ever once mentioning your name. He does that a lot, I should have figured. Thanks for the tickets, Jake, is it?"

"Thank Nick, he called in the favor. And yes, I'm Jake Laris," he replied. Then for the benefit of Damon only he added, 'You have to remember to confirm that one with Nick.'

'Will do.' Damon replied. "So we got plans?"

Jake had plans. "Drink and drugs sound any good?"

'I'm not doing drink or drugs, Jake.'

'Don't worry, I don't plan on it either. They'll be too wasted to notice, we just have to fake it.'

* * *

The bar was getting too loud to allow them to have too much of a conversation, but Anna had been determined to catch Jake all evening. Jake could see she had a few questions she was just itching to ask.

"Sprain your arm masturbating?"

"How'd you know that?" Jake shouted back at her. He could shout as loud as he liked, no one more than six inches away was going to hear what he was saying.

"That was what Damon claimed. He's wearing the exact same kind of bandage on his arm."

"There's a lot of it about, I hear."

"So, you and Damon, chalk and cheese, totally different everything. Wouldn't have figured you would get on that well at all. But, for all you aren't anything alike, there is an odd way you both act like you look through people rather than at them. Pretty spooky."

"I've been accused of worse than spooky."

"I can believe that."

"I know he really likes you. I know how much a help he figures you've been since, well, stuff I know I'm not meant to talk about regarding Mr Jackson."

"You know him pretty well. I can see it, the way you two talk. Like there is a whole deeper level of conversation going on there that the rest of us can't see."

"I think that's mostly Damon. I think that's, I don't think he used to be like that."

"But you do know him, pretty well."

"I guess."

"I thought I knew him, but he doesn't talk about you at all."

"No, he talks more about you. I'm just a friend. You're the object of his infatuation, his lust, his desire. Why would he want to talk about anyone else?"

"You know exactly what to say, don't you?"

"I have been accused of that."

* * *

Things were getting marginally quieter. It was getting late and the bar wasn't likely going to be open much longer. They'd been invited on to some party afterwards, but Damon wasn't so sure he was up to going. He spotted Mike sitting alone by the edge of the room. He figured he had to go ask the obvious question.

"So, Mike, right? Jake told me about the shirt. Working?"

"Hasn't got me a shag yet, but I've never had so many girls walk up to me in one night though. It's been worth it for that. Mostly I think Jake is dangerously out of his mind, but, he knows exactly what he's doing."

Damon recognized the perception. "Always manages to come through, however insane the odds."

"That's Jake."

* * *

All six of them had stumbled on to the party afterwards. Jake and Damon were both still disturbingly sober, but the others had long since passed the point of not making a heavy night of it. Jake had spent his evening floating around talking to anyone and everyone he could. Which up until this point hadn't somehow managed to include Kath.

"Jake." Kath had stated.

"Kath." He replied.

"That Damon."

"What about him?"

"He's Damon Jackson. The kid who was abducted, tortured, and escaped."

"I know."

"Seems like he's having a good time, but, there are moments he just looks blank, like he's thinking too much about something."

"You're right, he is doing that. I noticed. And you don't repeat that to anyone. Seriously. The kid's been through enough as it is. He's here to have fun. I'm trying to keep this fun for him. We're here to have fun as well. You having fun?"

"You kidding me, the best fucking fun ever. Two ambitions I have, this concert, see a Wimbledon center court final. You made a wish come true, Jake. But that's what you do isn't it, how you get your kicks. So. You having fun?"

"I would have to say that I am."

* * *

Kath had been right about Damon. Jake had noticed the moments he just seemed to space out. Finally Jake concluded it was time to go find out what was going on. Just to reassure himself it wasn't anything serious.

Damon had hesitated, but then realized this was Jake and there was no point hiding anything. "Came here back in March for that Institute for the advancement of Science event. The one I saw Stellman at."

Jake immediately understood, the reference to Stellman had been pretty much all he had needed to hear. Funny though, the coincidence. "I came here back in March as well, funnily enough, for a party. Mike's brother drove us. Interesting experience that was. You aren't planning on doing anything stupid like going looking for Stelllman are you?"

"I think Stellman is a professor on staff here. You know, even more weird, this was where I had my first vision of you."

"In any other conversation that comment would be disturbing in the extreme."

"Tell me about it."

"Oh fuck, you weren't that little twat at the party crashed into me and wound up underneath three pints of that disgusting student homebrew they were serving were you?"

"That was when it all started, wasn't it? You and me."

Damon was trying not to think it, but Jake could see through the veil. "So you are going to do something stupid and go looking for Stellman."

"I don't know, I keep thinking about going and looking him up, see if he's still here. I don't know what I'm going to do."

Jake realized there was no point telling Damon not to be stupid. He went for a more pragmatic approach. "Look, if you are going to do something stupid tomorrow. At least come find me first."

Damon was frustrated. "I feel like doing something stupid right now."

"What's up?"

"Just, everyone out there, having fun. I want to do something crazy, feel alive. But I feel like I'm too scared."

"Maybe you're meant to be the sober one. Think you might need to escort Anna back before too long, she doesn't look so great right now."

"And Mike's got a bunch of attention, but he won't get shagged passed out in the corner like that."

"They're all fucking wasted." Jake agreed.

"Right, and I feel like I'm missing out, but. I don't know."

"You figure the world is just something that happens to other people?"

"I sometimes wonder why it was I had to be so different from anyone else."

"Sometimes you just want to be human?"

"But we're not. So is there any point?"

"It's going to get better, Damon. Seriously. Give it time."

Damon was right out of patience. "I need some fresh air."

"Tell you what, why don't we climb on the roof and watch the sunrise." Jake countered, he didn't figure Damon needed to be headed off on his own like that.

"Er, think we're too late."

"Fuck. What time is it already?"

* * *

The morning came way too quickly for anyone to handle very well. Damon and Jake were the only ones without the liability of a hangover, but they were still challenged by the abbreviated nature of the sleep they'd managed. Damon had taken Anna back to her room, and stayed what was left of the night with her. No one was quite sure where Dean and Kath had vanished to. Jake had been left to manhandle Mike back to his room and put him to bed before stumbling off to his own room. He'd probably managed about four hours sleep.

They had all arrived at breakfast looking and feeling completely trashed. Well, most of them had arrived. Anna had joined them but Jake was a little concerned that there was no sign of Damon. He wasn't overly worried, it wasn't like the guy had been on the drink or drugs the night before, but he had been getting a little depressed towards the end of the evening. Jake had tried calling him once or twice during breakfast without getting any reply. He had figured Damon was just preoccupied, and that it was probably more discreet not to pester him for now.

Mike too was late in arriving.

"Has he taken that shirt off since we got here?" Anna whispered.

"Only to shower and put on more deodorant." Dean confirmed.

Jake tried for an cheerful and innocent look calculated to be the most effective in pissing everyone off. "I'm too good for you people, honestly. Mike, you look great. So is everyone looking forward to a fun day pretending to give a shit about whatever the fuck it is we are supposed to be here to see?"

"Piss off, Jake. My head is splitting." Mike had managed to mumble.

Despite Jake's best endeavors, breakfast never quite escaped from being a subdued affair.

* * *

'Jake?' Damon had called out nervously.

Breakfast was over, they were just clearing their trays away when Damon had popped up in Jake's head. Now finally the guy had turned up, only, he wasn't sounding too happy.

'Okay. What did you go do?' Jake asked, fearing the worst.

'Nothing stupid. Not yet anyway.'

'Not yet?'

'Got Stellman's address from the campus address book. Went over there.'

'You twat, I thought you agreed to come find me first.'

'You'd have talked me out of it, you're good at that. Anyway, I didn't do anything completely stupid. Not yet. Just, sat on top of a building nearby, watching. He's there, or, someone is anyway. I can see someone walking from the kitchen to the living room. Think he's just had breakfast.'

'Damon, you're scaring me.'

'Scaring you? I'm scaring me. I just, I need you to come sit here with me and talk to me. Just talk me out of doing anything even more stupid, Jake. I'm fucked up. I need you.'

'On my way.'

* * *

Jake grabbed Kath for a quiet word as they headed out.

"Kath, need a favor. Big favor. Fucking big favor. Tell Fiedler I must have eaten something funny. But, somehow, let him think you're covering up the fact I had way too much to drink last night and I'm suffering from a major hangover."

"Which in turn is a cover up for something even bigger, what the hell are you getting yourself into here?" Kath was actually genuinely concerned.

"You said you wanted to be around to see me screw up. Well, now might just be your chance."

"Screw up what? You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"You'll know about it, if it happens. This screw up will be so fucking spectacular that half the world will know about it."

"What scares me is, you aren't joking. You honestly think you can get away with this?"

"This time, probably. But I admit, I am wondering just how much longer I can go on getting away with everything I do, particularly the stuff this stupid."

* * *

"Neat lake over there." Jake observed nervously.

"Wouldn't spot it so easily from the ground, unless you knew it was there."

"Great place for a midnight swim."

"I'd have to be seriously drunk to do anything that stupid. And I'm not going to be getting that drunk. Not any time soon." Damon glance back at Jake. "You okay clinging on to the brickwork there?"

"They always show superheroes on TV perched on top of buildings like this, but it's easy for them, scares the fuck out of me. So, is it him then?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Stellman. If you're asking whether Stellman is the guy who tortured me, I don't know. Not close enough to tell. He seems to be getting ready to head out."

"You absolutely sure you would recognize him, your abductor, if you did get close enough?"

"Yeah. Some minds you don't forget."

Jake wasn't sure he was doing the right thing, but he could tell Damon wasn't ready to listen to a plea to just walk away. Jake gave up on caution. "He's alone. He's on campus where people know him. There's two of us. This place is too public, he isn't going to try anything. I'm not saying confront him, but, get close enough to work out if this is the guy they're after or not."

"So, aren't you supposed to be talking me out of this?"

"That was the idea. Turns out I'm shit at it. I think he's getting ready to head out. As long as you understand this won't give us any evidence we can go to the police with."

"No, I know. But I'll know. That might help."

"He's headed for the door." Jake observed. "You ready for this?"

"No." Damon was honest.

Jake could see it wasn't going to stop Damon though. Anyway, Jake was getting past the point of feeling comfortable clinging precariously to the brickwork. "Let's jaunt down there then."

"Jake."

"Yeah?"

"Please stay close."

"I will."

* * *

'So. We're stalking a man who is shopping for vegetables in a supermarket.' Jake observed wryly.

'Goes down as about the weirdest thing I ever did,' Damon agreed.

'Not achieving much though.'

'No.'

'So what do we do?'

'It isn't about distance. I don't know. He's focussed on shopping and all I can see is how firm he likes his vegetables.'

'Yeah, he is kind of obsessive about that I noticed.'

'So how do you get past that?'

'You can't make people think about the things you want them to think about. I get a bit more clarity if the person is paying attention to me. Sometimes I can talk to them, nudge into thinking about what I want to know about, but, that's never very reliable.'

'So what I need to do...'

'That's fucking insane talk, Damon.' Jake was not liking where Damon's thoughts were going.

'I know.'

'Having a polite conversation is not..."

'I know.' Damon repeated. But he'd made up his mind. He turned and walked away from Jake, around to the other side of the aisle.

'Fuck it, Damon.' Jake hung back, not knowing what to do.

"Hi. Don't I recognize you?" Jake managed to interpose himself in front of Stellman.

"I don't think so, young man." Stellman replied blankly.

"Yes, you're Marcus Stellman. You were at the Institute for the Advancement of Science lecture given by Doctor Roger Elvyn in March. I stopped to speak to both of you after the lecture."

"Yes I was there, but I spoke to a lot of people. Sorry, I don't remember you."

"Well I'm Damon Jackson. And I remember you. Just so you know. I remember you very, very well." Damon was staring intensely at Stellman. The guy was trying desperately not to react.

"Pleased to know that. I like to make an impression." Stellman tried to sound dismissive.

Damon could sense puzzlement. He tried to follow and see why Stellman was looking oddly at him. "You're looking at my arm. The bandage. Aluminum foil, the weird things they make bandages out of these days."

"I hope it isn't anything too serious."

"The arm, no. Happened, oh, back when I was eleven. You know, the one after number ten." Damon threw caution to the wind. Jake had been right, there was nothing Stellman could do in public.

"I see. Well, forgive me for seeming rude, but I must continue my shopping."

"That's fine. You shop. I'm off to play a game. We'll have to get together again some time to talk. Talk survival of the fittest, that was an interesting conversation. Don't know we ever reached a conclusion."

"I don't know. You clearly remember things better than I do."

"Oh, you shouldn't put yourself down. Anyway I'm sure you'll remember this meeting. For a long time. I certainly will. Good day to you, professor."

"Good day to you."

"Oh, I notice you have cabbage there. I wouldn't recommend the cabbage. I think it's drugged."

Damon walked away without looking back.

* * *

Jake hurried out of the supermarket to catch up with Damon who was still walking. "You think that was a good idea?"

"No. But it felt good."

"How come?"

"Because this time he was the one stood there shitting bricks."

Jake glanced back. "It is him then, for sure?"

"Yeah. And he did recognize me as well. And I scared the fucking living shit out of him. Almost wet himself. And you know what? I never fucking felt better in my life."

Jake could sense the intensity of Damon's reaction. "Therapeutic then?"

"Oh fuck, Jake." Damon stopped walking, turned and leant against the wall, a smile breaking though the tears that were close to overwhelming him. "We messed his plans up, way more than we realized. He was fucking furious with us. Anger like, fuck it was so sweet. He's a wounded animal trapped in a cage and he doesn't know what the fuck he's going to do."

"You said he was driven, on a mission, how does that fit with what you're seeing now?"

"He still is, he just doesn't see how he can make it work. He's on the edge. He's fucked up. He's desperate. He's lost."

"What do you think?"

"I think it's over. I think I'm free. I think, I haven't felt this much like, shit, Jake, we've nailed the motherfucker. He's the one on the ropes, not us. He's the one who needs to run, not us. I think... you know. I think I screwed up last night. Missed out. I think, I think we go out right now and get totally fucking hammered."

* * *

"Fuck, Jake. I am actually feeling relaxed. Not felt that in months." Damon was crashed out, sat propped up against the wall. The afternoon had seamlessly flowed into the concert, and the concert had given way to a party back on campus afterwards.

Jake was bemused to finally be able to hang out with Damon without constantly having to allow for how freaked out the guy was. He was actually finding out that Damon was much more interesting to hang out with when the guy was relaxed. Or, maybe it was because he was stoned. Anyway, it had been a good day. Fucking good day. "Good concert."

"Fucking good concert." Damon agreed.

"So, how come Mike is with Kath, and Dean isn't?" Things seemed to be going on that Jake was too stoned to keep track of.

"She's pissed off with Dean, because he's with Anna."

"Right. And, you're relaxed?"

"Anna's interest in Dean is purely to get him into bed with me so she can watch. Did I ever tell you she had that fantasy? Anyway, I didn't actually think she would get drunk enough to try and go for it. She knows it won't happen."

"Wonder if Dean knows what she's really up to."

"Oh, she won't actually go through with it. She'll just go far enough that she can wind me up about it."

"Reading minds kind of takes the fun out of being wound up sometimes, doesn't it."

"Too true." Damon agreed.

"Dean will be pissed when he realizes how much he pissed Kath off. Nice enough guy, but a bit slow when it comes to working out what other people are thinking."

"You don't think Kath and Mike will go too far?"

Jake considered for a moment. "I will admit, Mike likes Kath. But, he hasn't got the self confidence to do anything about it. Unless of course I totally fucked things up by making him wear that shirt."

"Which is bloody hilarious. Girls have been flirting with him all night because of it."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"So that leaves us. You and me. Alone here together."

"Going solo. At least you have Anna to go back to."

Damon sniggered. "And you have a choice. What's wrong with fucking the monkeys?"

"Will you quit calling them that."

"Them?" Damon could smell victory.

"Fuck off. Plus, you don't even believe that. You're just saying it to wind me up."

"Fucking mind reader." He laughed.

Jake shook his head in defeat, grabbed his bottle of beer from the floor and downed what was left. "Want to get out of here, go back to my room?"

"You propositioning me for sex?"

"No, I'm fucking not. More thinking drugs."

"Go on then, I..."

"What's up?"

Damon blinked.

"What's up, what are you seeing?" Jake was curious.

"Not sure, stars in the sky. Darkness, outside. Vague face, oriental maybe?"

"That's crap. Now the stuff we saw when we were tripping on that whatever it was we got stoned on this afternoon, that was way more, well, fucked up."

"I'm fucking, too pissed to know what I'm seeing. Too happy to care. We won, Jake, we won."

"Honestly mate, it's fucking good to see you chilled out like this."

"Too fucking true, Jake. Too fucking true."

"So." Jake was feeling in need of more of the same.

"So. Kath and Mike are gone. Dean and Anna are still gone." Damon conceded.

"But I've got the magic stuff."

"Right. Let's go back, get fucking weeded."

"Damon."

"Yeah?"

"I don't think that's a real expression."

"Oh."

* * *

Damon arrived slightly late at the breakfast table the next morning. His head wasn't feeling nearly as bad as he figured it should have done after the night before. His memory was in less good shape. He vaguely remembered leaving the bar with Jake, going back and smoking something. He wasn't really much into smoking, he didn't figure Jake was either. But then... he wasn't sure. They'd woken up on the roof of some building, somewhere it wasn't actually possible to get to, so he had to figure they'd both jaunted up there. Both of them dressed only in swimming shorts, still a little bit wet, and neither of the exactly sure just whose shorts they were. He was pretty sure they wouldn't have gone out and done anything too silly, but he didn't know that for certain. He did know that Anna hadn't made it back either that night. So, at least he didn't feel much the only one who had to explain away what he had been up to.

"I didn't, you know." Anna started the conversation.

"I know."

"Yeah, you always fucking know."

"You want me to think you did?"

"No, just, I like you, but sometimes I think we come from different planets."

"We do, men come from Mars, women come from Venus."

"Damon, you come from a fucking small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. I mean, you don't, do you, for real?"

"No."

"Because I know there is a whole bunch of shit you don't tell me. Like about who the fuck this Jake is. Because from what Dean says about him, that guy could be from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse as well."

"There's some shit in this world too weird to explain."

"You don't even seem interested in trying."

"Sorry. And no, I know what you're wondering, but no, I didn't either."

"I didn't think you had, I was just wondering."

"At least I don't think I did. I don't know. You lot vanished and we just went back and got so wasted I don't really remember any of what happened after that."

"I'd be pretty pissed off if you had though."

"Right." Damon observed, "But only because you would have wanted to watch."

* * *

Jake was sat with a somewhat silent trio of friends over breakfast. He'd managed to work out it was Dean's shorts that he'd had on when he'd woken up, but he didn't feel the need to share this particular piece of information with any of them. They had their own issues, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to try and work it all out.

But Jake also needed to break the silence. "Alright people. You all worked out a long time ago that I can read people's minds. So, how about this time instead of picking a random stranger in the crowd, I sit here and I tell you what you're all thinking. All the sordid details of what really happened last night. Then if you still all have problems, it's not my problem."

There was more silence.

"Dean spent the night with Anna, but they didn't have sex. Anna was frustrated with Damon, and she needed to talk. Dean is the one who always just listens. And that's all he did. Until he fell asleep. Kath was pissed off with Dean for paying so much attention to Anna, and she spent all her time with Mike trying to make him jealous. They disappeared off together to go to another bar, but Kath was actually not doing so well because of the time of the month and headed to bed. Mike meanwhile got abandoned in the other bar, and was pissed off for being dumped there, until a bunch of girls turned up, saw his shirt, and started talking. Mike went back with one of them, and is no longer a virgin. It wasn't quite the orgasm he was hoping for, but he's happy with the way it worked out. He knows he totally owes me for that now. And you all figure I went back with Damon for bum sex. That did not happen. We went back to smoke joints, and ended up very stupidly climbing up onto the roof to watch the sunrise."

The silence lingered.

"So." Jake continued, "Does any one of you wish to state for the record that what I just said is in any way not a total and complete and accurate account of what happened?"

More silence.

"Silence is not an answer. You each need to say yes or no. Then we can get over this, and move on."

"Yes. I confess. I dumped Mike alone in a bar and went back to go to bed." Kath broke the silence.

Dean followed. "I went back with Anna, she was upset. Probably even more upset after I fell asleep while she was telling me all her problems."

"I..." Mike started, but kind of dried up.

"So where is the shirt?" Dean asked, noting this was the first time since Sunday eveing that Mike hadn't been wearing it.

"She said she wanted it as a trophy."

"Gnarly." Dean replied.

Kath stared at Dean. "What the fuck does gnarly mean?"

Jake smiled, relieved as the conversation slowly started coming back to life. This was better.

* * *

The day passed. People had generally ended up happier than they had been at breakfast, but all were still on the whole pretty subdued. It had been a pretty crazy couple of days. At least, what they could remember of it was pretty crazy. The rest was probably crazier. They said their goodbyes and packed to head back. Jake only managed to find time to talk to Damon briefly that evening. For all their protestations, they were both still pretty embarrassed by how stupid they'd been, even if they weren't quite entirely sure what it was they really had done. Both of them were fairly resolute it would be a long time before they would let themselves get that stoned again.

* * *

Damon opened his eyes. Back in his own bed. Wednesday morning. Slightly more normal than waking up on the roof of a tower block he had to concede. Alright, so the experience had been weird as fuck, but he was happy. Even the prospect of having to go back to school today wasn't going to get him down. He couldn't see that anything could get him down right now.

He headed down to breakfast to find his mother sat at the table, looking pale. He could sense she felt intense unease, fear, coldness. She was trying not to look at the newspaper folded on the table. Damon froze, and then very quickly started to get freaked. 'Jake?' He called out. He didn't like the sense he got of Jake when the reply came.

'Okay here, but I think you really might want to sit down.' Jake was struggling to hold it together.

Damon sat, silently. He could guess; 'Fuck it Jake, this is not happening. Tell me this isn't happening.'

'Sorry.'

'No, please God, no...' He slowly unfolded the newspaper to look at front page. "What the fuck does he think he's...?" Damon started, half sobbing. He stopped himself abruptly, realizing he had said that out loud and not just to Jake.

Damon's mother remained remarkably composed considering his outburst. She didn't even seem to react to his language. "Sorry, I meant to move that before you came down."

"They'll be talking about it at school. There's no point trying to hide from it." Damon looked down at the face looking back at him from the page. The headline was down to a single word: 'missing'. The caption identified the girl as a Misako Haruaki, aged seventeen.

He closed his eyes. Waves of guilt flowing relentlessly through his thoughts. He'd seen it. Seen her. Seen her and thought he was just tripping on drugs. When he though it was fine. When he was so happy, when he was so sure it was all over that he'd been more than happy to get smashed out of his mind. And while he was having so much fun watching a psychedelic fueled sunrise on top of a tower block, Misako Haruaki was out there somewhere being tortured. Tortured by Stellman. Stellman, who Damon had been so sure was not going to risk doing anything like that ever again. But he had. Damon closed his eyes, he was the one who'd pushed Stellman over the edge, pushed the guy into desperation, he was the reason a seventeen year old girl was going to die. What the fuck had he done? It wasn't meant to be like this.

* * *

"Another one, Jacob, another one. And we left you here for an entire week, alone. What kind of parents are we, doing something thing that irresponsible, well? Anything could have happened. You could have been kidnapped and no one would even have known about it. Not for an entire week. Think about that, Jake. And who knows what's happening to that poor girl right at this moment. Her parents must be worried sick." Jake's mother was babbling again, but there was no doubt her concern was genuine.

Jake was finding it hard to focus. Nervously fingering the tin foil arm band he was wearing. The tin foil armband that was the reason that the next victim hadn't been him. And that was all he could think of, how it should have been him that was next. By wearing the armband all he'd done was force Stellman to miss him out and go for the next name. Why the fuck hadn't he seen that would be the obvious outcome? No, he'd been too busy getting high and enjoying himself.

What was it Damon had said? They couldn't afford to make mistakes. They fucked up, the consequences were ten times worse than if a human fucked up. He hadn't listened, and now the consequence was that Misako Haruaki could very likely end up dead. Jake was angry. Anger wasn't an emotion he often experienced. This was his mess, his responsibility.

"I'll make you a promise." Jake found himself interrupting his mother's stream of conversation. That in itself was something of an unusual occurrence.

"You, make a promise, wonders will never cease. This is a new one, I have to hear this!"

"That Damon kid, he escaped. Well, I'll do better than that. If that idiot kidnapper is stupid enough to try and kidnap me, I won't just escape, I'll deal with him."

"You mind your cheek, Jacob Laris. Though I'll be damned if that didn't sound like you actually meant it. All I can say is that if he does kidnap you then he deserves everything he gets."

"He messes with me, he won't walk away from it."

"Get out of here to school Jacob. Go torment those teachers of yours. And don't work too hard. Don't want you going mad with stress again this year."

Jake finished his breakfast coldly, solemnly. Then headed out for school.

* * *

Damon arrived at school to find that no one there seemed willing to make eye contact with him. Not the kids, not the teachers. Actually, that kind of suited him. He wasn't much in a mood to look anyone in the eye. As soon as he had the opportunity, he contacted Jake again.

'We going to have an argument over which of us is more to blame?' Jake asked, already sensing what Damon was thinking.

'Been thinking about nothing else. But, as you keep on pointing out to me, there's nothing we could have done. As much as it feels like it's right to start blaming ourselves for this, there's nothing, right, nothing we could have done.'

'Right. We're fucking useless.'

'Guilty of the right things we didn't do.'

'We worked out how to run away fine.'

'Were we this defeatist when I was the victim?'

'I don't think we stopped to think about it.'

Damon broke down. 'Fuck it, Jake, she's going to be tortured and killed.'

'I know.'

'So, we have to get the motherfucker caught, right, so no one else has to suffer what happened to me and the others. How do we make sure the police get what they need to take him out?'

'You're asking me how we trick the police into being competent without them noticing?' Jake sounded unconvinced.

'We have to do something, I can't let this go, Jake, I can't. I was abducted and tortured by a fucking psychopath, and I, my head is so fucked up that I don't really know what I'm thinking anymore. We have to make the police understand, whatever that takes, we have to.'

'They're fucking useless. The police are fucking totally useless.'

'I know that, tell me about it.'

'So. Fuck them. We go after Stellman ourselves.'

'What?'

'You're right. We have to do something. But there's no point trying to convince the police it's Stellman. By the time that works, Misako will be dead. We act now, you and me, we might still save her. So. We go after Stellman ourselves.'

'You changed your tune?'

'You got a problem with that?'

'No. But we don't even know where to start looking.'

'Yes we do.'

'What?'

'We can talk on the way.'

'What?'

'Cut school. Get here. Now.'

'Jake?'

'Cut school. Get here. Now. End of.'

* * *

**20: Beginning of the End Game**

* * *

"What you got?" Damon was burning with curiosity, and Jake had remained obstinately silent in the couple of hours it had taken Damon to get there. The reason became apparent; Jake had been busy.

Jake was forcing himself to choke back the emotion and remain businesslike. "The other tracking numbers on that list. No response when we tried them before. That was then, I tried again. One of them is showing up as active."

Damon was immediately reassured by the progress. "You think that's her?"

"He has no idea we know about the tracking numbers. And those GPS bugs are fucking expensive. And it made sense, she was probably already tagged given the schedule he's been working."

"So where are we looking at."

"Right. The GPS coordinates for shit creek are 54.0152N, 0.5750W, North East of here somewhere. Here's the map."

"And there is a great place for fish and chips on Main Street, less than three minutes drive from there."

"Ever wonder how people survived before geo-location?"

"Beats me. So you have a plan?" Damon asked, realizing the question was a stupid one, when the fuck did Jake ever have a plan?

"Not really, just figured maybe you could find this Misako while I keep our friend Stellman busy."

"Right. Fine."

"You have a better idea?"

"No. What's this?" Damon asked, picking up a bunch of paper from the bed.

"I printed out her medical records. Nothing embarrassing, but it had stuff on there, home address, parents' telephone number. Might help."

"And is that a phone or a improvised vibrator?" Damon gestured at the tape covered cellphone that was also lying on the bed.

"Not been used in months, I can claim I lost it camping months ago. We can use it, there's some plausible deniability. What?" Jake couldn't quite catch the emotion associated with why Damon was shaking his head.

"I'm starting to understand how the fuck you pulled off the impossible, saved my life. I'm starting to believe Misako has a chance."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Study the map." Jake remained outwardly emotionless.

"Looks like an old water treatment plant, out in the country, about a hundred miles North East of here."

"First we have to worry about how we get there."

"Train?" Damon considered.

"There are no trains to middle-of-fucking-nowhere where that is."

"Car."

"Car?" Jake sounded dubious.

"Steal a car."

"I only have a provisional license. You don't even have that."

"I'm talking about stealing a car and you're worried about driving it illegally?"

"Where are we going to steal a car?"

"From Mike, where's he park it?"

"Right now it will be parked outside his house. He didn't make it in to school today, claimed it was a stomach bug."

"So hangover still?"

"Probably. Anyway, his car, technically that makes it borrow not steal."

"Sure, but if I said borrow then you'd have had a valid point about the driving license."

Jake glanced across at Damon, sounding impressed. "That's actually quite clever."

"I know. Thank you."

"You ready?"

"Now?"

"Lock the bedroom door, we'll head out through the back. Head over to Mike's place. GPS will guide us from there. This is our one chance. Only chance. Has to be now."

"Simple as that?"

"Yes. Rescue Misako Haruaki, get Stellman strung up by his balls in the process, and get back here alive without the police ever even knowing we were involved. Fucking piece of piss. What's your problem?"

* * *

Damon picked up the phone and called Nick.

"So where are you, I'd have thought you would be on lock down after the latest abduction?" Nick answered.

"No time to explain. I need a favor. I need you to cover for me, don't let anyone know where I've gone. Give me an hour, then call and tell my mom I turned up at your place all upset, tell her everything is okay though, and I've calmed down a bit, and I'm asleep in your room. Tell her you figure it's okay for me to spend the night, they can come pick me up tomorrow. We can fake it as some post traumatic stress thing triggered by the latest abduction, I'll be back by the morning, I think."

"You think? You're fucking insane, and how the hell do I explain to your bodyguard?"

"Tell him I sneaked off to go see Anna for a shag, tell him anything. With any luck I'll be back long before anyone gets suspicious. I have to go, see you in the morning."

* * *

"Mike." Jake had jaunted right into Mike's bedroom, he hadn't figured on wanting any delays explaining his presence if Mike's parents had been in. Under the circumstances he wasn't too worried about not knocking first.

"Who the... Jake? How the fuck, you're in my bedroom how the fuck did you get in my bedroom?" Mike had been asleep, and was somewhat bewildered.

"Admit it, you've always wanted to get me in here alone!"

"I, how the fuck did you get in my bedroom?"

"No time for that, sorry. Look, you owe me, and I'm calling in the favor. I need to borrow your car."

Mike hesitated, trying to get his head around the weird shit that was happening. "You had, like, two lessons, you can't drive."

"I haven't got time for this, Mike. This is serious."

"What the fuck is going on Jake?"

"You're going to have to trust me. Sorry."

"My car?"

"If I'm not back by the morning, report it stolen."

"What do you mean not back? What..."

"Mike. Stop. Will you please help me? Yes or no."

"Yes."

"That's all I needed. See you soon."

* * *

The drive should have been about two hours, at least it should have been according to the navigation software. That already seemed somehow unrealistically hopeful, it felt like it had taken that long already and it looked like there was still a long way to go. But as long as the GPS unit was still happily giving them directions then they at least knew that they were still on the right track. Thankfully for Jake the driving was turning out to be relatively simple and at least as long as they could stay on the motorway that would continue to be the case. Jake felt more concerned about how his driving would hold up once they got closer and into much less predictable traffic. The idea of getting pulled over didn't much appeal, his provisional license didn't quite cover any of what he was up to. They would have to do a runner if that happened, and abandoning Mike's car would be difficult to explain, but they couldn't afford to get arrested, not with a life at stake.

A life at stake... it was crazy. A crazy grim reality which Jake was facing with an acceptance that he found more than a little disquieting. Shit like this wasn't meant to be normal. He'd taken risks before, he'd even enjoyed taking risks, even got a thrill from it, but this was different. This time he was very, very aware that it really was life or death. It wasn't just an intellectual challenge any more, this was real. And the sooner it was over the better. He could also sense that Damon wasn't dealing with the situation well at all. Jake had no choice but to wait and see, let things happen, and he knew that was something Damon was never going to be comfortable with. Damon hated not having a plan.

"Turn left, next junction." The GPS intoned soullessly to him. They had driven into some heavy rain, and Jake had slowed down considerably. The weather was deteriorating rapidly and it was starting to get dark. Jake could also see from the display that they were close to getting off the motorway, and that was where it would get much more difficult.

The two of them had remained pretty silent on the journey. Damon had commented on the weather a couple of times, but Jake hadn't answered. He needed to concentrate on the directions and the driving, he didn't need his mind tied up with effort he needed for any conversation.

"Fifteen more minutes." Jake whispered to Damon, speaking out loud for the first time since they had left the university. For the first time since they had set out he started to feel like there was just a chance they might pull this off.

Time passed, the rain eased off, then started even heavier than before. The directions started getting more complex, he was aware of approaching ever closer to the place they were seeking, and as much as he was starting to feel hopeful, his level of nervousness was also increasing.

"You have now reached your destination." The GPS voice concluded,

'What the fuck?' Jake asked, like Damon would have a clue. They were on a long straight country road, neither of them had seen anything. Jake quickly pulled over onto the grass verge by the side of the road. He checked the time, they hadn't been driving much longer than the two hours predicted. They had arrived. Somewhere.

"We try and turn, go back?" Damon asked.

"Let me recheck the location of the tracking chip. See if we can get a more accurate fix."

"I didn't see a road or anything back there. There could have been a driveway. Not sure we have any fucking chance of seeing much in this weather though."

"Map says back about a hundred yards, and over, I guess over that fence there."

"There's a fence there?" Damon was trying to see out through the rain streaming down the car window.

"Map claims there is."

"Don't suppose we really want to drive right up to the place, from an element of surprise point of view."

"Nice weather for a stroll in the country at night."

"So we park here. Walk the rest of the way."

"Not much choice."

Damon had half wondered if it was worth waiting for a lull in the storm. Lightening almost directly overhead suggested that they were likely to have a long wait. They decided to get wet. Damon slipped out, and Jake reset the alarm. They couldn't really risk the car being stolen, that was their only way back. Jake kind of hoped it had enough fuel to get them back, but that was not something he could start worrying about for now.

They continued on foot, nervous and wondering. It was approaching eleven in the evening, the deserted rural street was poorly lit, visibility was reduced by the heavy rain, they could barely look up; for the most part they were walking almost blind. They didn't mind; the storm provided cover, not much chance of anyone spotting them wandering back along the road. Not that they had much clue where they were headed, Jake was pretty sure it was just farmland behind him, but that was where the tracking signal had come from.

They quickly found what they had missed driving past in the storm. A tall padlocked gate just off the road. Overgrown with weeds for the most part, it didn't look like it had been used that often, but the ground was still torn up by heavy tires, it had been used recently. Gave them some confidence that at least they weren't totally in the wrong place.

'Trying to climb over is going to be dangerous in this weather.' Damon wasn't overjoyed at the prospect.

Jake gave him a puzzled stare, was Damon really that thick? No one was going to be able to see them. He fixed his gaze through the gates and jaunted through into the undergrowth beyond. 'You coming?' He called back silently, waiting for Damon to join him.

Damon followed unsteadily, nervous and wondering. Jake reached out a hand to help him balance. 'Thanks,' Damon mumbled, 'Still not got the hang of the part where the ground changes beneath you, especially going from stone to soft mud.'

'Got more issues with the conservation of momentum thing myself, but...'

'Huh?'

'Can we talk about that another time?'

'Right. I can't make out much of the path but there is a building of some description up there in the distance.'

Jake was unconvinced. 'Doesn't look much like the sewage plant in the photograph.'

'Looks like an abandoned farm house.'

'Abandoned farmhouse next to a sewage farm.'

'No points for guessing why the farmhouse got abandoned.'

'Fits the profile. Has to be our best chance.'

They trudged slowly along the path, ignoring the puddles and splashing themselves in showers of mud, there didn't seem any easier way. It was going to be a seriously uncomfortable journey home. And if they survived to make it back, Mike was going to kill them for the mess they would make of the inside of his new car.

Damon left the front door to the house on the latch, but pushed it closed to keep out the wind and the rain. The entrance hall was ornate, Victorian probably. But empty and abandoned. The building looked like it was about ready to be condemned. He wondered how long they would be able to wander around the place without being noticed. 'I can sense, maybe just a single person, it isn't clear.'

'Stellman?' Jake asked.

'I think so, not sure. Think I can identify him without having to talk to him now, but he's still too far off to know for sure.'

'Not moving about much, stationary, you're right about him not being all that close by. Trying to get a sense of some kind of direction.' Jake looked back over at Damon.

'Down.' Damon answered, with some certainty.

'So, we're looking for a basement.'

Damon surveyed the hall in its darkness, he couldn't see any obvious way down. He wandered unhurriedly towards a door in the far wall leaving a trail of muddy footprints. Too late, not exactly incongruous, but unavoidable. 'Shit.'

'Right, I hadn't thought about that.' Jake admitted,

'So, this problem you have with planning ahead, is that some kind of mental disorder, or are you just doing it to wind me up?'

'It really winds you up that much?' Jake brushed his hand along the decorative wood panelling, it's beauty a world away from the harsh indifference that he felt. He pulled open the door and stepped into an anteroom, stairs led down from an alcove in the West wall. 'This looks promising.'

'Do we really want to be heading down there if that's him still down there?'

'No, probably not.'

'It winds me up because we're wandering around here like a couple of twats with no clue what we're doing.'

'We are a couple of twats who have no clue what we're doing.' Jake pointed out.

'Shhh...' Damon interrupted him.

'We're talking telepathically, He's not going to hear us.'

'Right, You're right. But I think he's coming this way.'

Jake hesitated, Damon was right, he could sense movement, someone coming up the stairs. He looked around, there was a second door, Damon had already seen it as well. They slipped through into what appeared to be a kitchen area. No where obvious to hide, a further door led through into a small empty pantry. The pantry locked from the inside. They shut the door and sat in silence. Safe for the moment, but safe wasn't exactly useful. They could hear wheels, clanking on steps. Clanking on the stone floor. Then it stopped.

'He's going back down. What now?' Damon asked.

'There's someone else out there.'

'You're right. Very feint though, someone...'

'Someone who's given up the will to live. I recognize the feeling,' Jake stated bluntly.

Damon tried to remain composed. 'I got that bad?'

'Yeah. You got past it though.'

'Kind of different seeing it from the outside looking in. So that's Misako then.'

'Must be. Which means we're in the right place at least. And we're not too late. Not yet anyway.' He should have felt relief, but it just increased the pressure. Fucking up was not an option.

They waited. Waited three or four minutes maybe. Then they heard the noise of what they figured was Stellman return. They listened and waited for the noise of whatever it was he was dragging to clank off in the other direction. Once they were sure there was no one nearby any more, Jake cautiously opened the door. They crept back into the anteroom.

'Car driving off?' Jake was trying to listen. It was difficult to make out above the noise of the storm that was still raging.

Damon went to peer out through the broken window. 'Where the fuck is he going this time of the night and in this weather?'

'Doesn't matter. It gives us some time.' Jake nervously approached the archway with the staircase leading down.

Damon held back momentarily. 'As you're the one without the plan, I'll let you go first.'

'Will you fucking shut up about the plan thing.'

They descended silently into the darkness. Jake was in front, unable to see what awaited him, nervous, but feeling in control, and that made all the difference. He was in control. Sure, what he was doing was stupid, but he had chosen to be stupid of his own free will. Yeah, crazy, but that helped. He reached the bottom without looking back and stepped through another door into the semi-light of a single forty watt bulb. Probably had been a wine cellar, or something like that, storage. A narrow passage with a series of doors to the left. At the end of the passage there was a sports bag on a chair.

Damon headed over to the bag to look. 'Cellphone, tranquilizer gun, keys.'

'Safe enough here, not things he wants to be caught with if he gets stopped for any reason. Any evidence tying him here he leaves here when he goes out.' Jake reasoned.

'Thoughtful of him.'

'Useful for us. Hold onto the phone, easier to explain than using my old one. And the keys...'

Jake looked along the row of what he figured probably locked doors into what looked like small vaulted chambers, he peered into them one by one. The final room revealed a girl sedated and tied up on a stretcher bed. She looked gaunt and not in great shape, not at all much like the smiling healthy picture of her that was plastered across the newspapers, but he figured it had to be Misako. It took only a few moments to find the right key.

'Right, Jake. This is what I hate about not having a plan. We found her. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?'

Jake's patience was wearing thin. 'You want a plan, make a fucking plan. Alright.'

'Plan. Right. Call the police.' Damon tried to drive the agenda.

'And tell them what?'

'I'm thinking, at least I'm trying here.'

'For a start we can't do anything until Stellman gets back. Not if we want to be sure they catch him.' Jake had no plan, but he had thought things through.

'We can at least get Misako away then.'

'She has to be here or the police have no evidence. Without that he can walk away, this whole thing just starts all over again.'

'Then what the fuck do we do?' Damon was getting irritated.

'You got Misako's home telephone number?' Jake was thinking through ideas, desperately hoping something he thought of would make sense.

'Yeah.'

'Right. When we hear Stellman get back, call that number, say nothing. Keep the call up for a few seconds, disconnect, leave the phone on, turn of the ringer. The police'll be tracing every call, like they did on your home number. That'll be enough.'

'You sure?'

'They'll come. I'd bet my life on it.'

'You're betting her life on it.'

'I know.' Jake was uncomfortable, he didn't need reminding, but it was the only decision he could make.

Damon tried to stay calm. 'Can we do something to at least try and protect her?'

'Yes, absolutely, if we can think of something.' Jake tried not to sound short.

Damon paused, determined to come up with something. 'That pantry we hid in, I can lock it from the inside and jaunt out. Then leave the front door open, faking a trail to make it look like she got away.

Jake grinned. That helped, that would work. He felt much better. 'Now you're getting it. One more loose end...'

'Making sure Stellman doesn't get away as well.'

'Right. So while you make the call to her parents, I'll go mess with Stellman's car. On a night like this he isn't going to make it far without that. Make it look like mechanical trouble, don't want him getting suspicious too quickly.'

'Then once the police are on their way, Misako is safe and the car is disabled, we get out of here. Back to the car, and make sure we are a long, long way away by the time the police get here.' Damon was finally getting into the swing of things.

'All of which sounds more than a little bit, well, half baked to me. At least when you don't have a plan, you can't look at it and think how stupidly hopeless the situation is.'

'Our plan is stupidly hopeless?' Damon asked.

'No, the plan is as good as it gets. The situation is what's fucked up.'

'You alright?'

Jake shook his head. 'No, I'm... I'm pissed off. I don't want to be doing this. I just want to go home.'

'But that isn't an option, is it?' Damon pushed. He could sense Jake was close to understanding.

'No. I'm on the list. I'm one of the tomorrow people. I don't get to walk away from that do I? It's who I am.'

'So we just finish this off, and get out of here.'

Jake smiled, it felt odd to be the one who needed that reassurance. 'Wonder how how long Stellman is going to be gone. We could be stuck here half the night.'

They sat in silence. It didn't take more than a few minutes for Damon to crack. 'Alright. I need to do something. What games you got on your phone?'

* * *

**21: Survival of the Fittest**

* * *

It was still raining heavily. Jake didn't see any point in letting that bother him, he was already just about as wet as he could physically get. He had left Damon to make the call for help the moment they had heard the car returning and was now circling around the old farmhouse in the opposite direction to get to it. Well, actually, it had turned out to be another anonymous van. He could see it easily enough, the thing was bright white, not exactly inconspicuous, but it was parked round the back where it couldn't be seen from the road or from the driveway. Jake trudged his way through the mud as quickly as was possible. Moments later he had disconnected the distributor, gingerly, the engine had still been on the warm side. He figured that would be effective, his driving lessons had covered a few of the basics of how engines worked, and he hoped this bit of sabotage would be obscure enough that it wouldn't be noticed unless the guy was explicitly looking for it. Jake just hoped that was going to be enough. He also had to ignore the fact that the plan didn't take into account that the guy might just leg it on foot, although the weather at least was on their side on that one.

They'd had to wait about four hours for Stellman to return. Staying awake hadn't been easy, but the worse part was that they were getting hungry and thirsty. A chocolate bar Damon had found in his pocket that they'd shared between them had not done much to help. Nervous energy was about the only thing keeping them going now.

Misako had remained unconscious throughout. She was only barely breathing, she was in a bad way and obviously heavily shot up on tranquilizers. It had taken the both of them to get her wheeled upstairs and hidden. The old pantry wasn't an obvious place to hide for someone trying to escape and they were counting on Stellman figuring she had stumbled out into the rain. Of course his first response would be to try and get a GPS track on her like Jake and Damon had, and Jake had reluctantly sacrificed his own foil armband to make sure Stellman wouldn't be able to find her that easily. It didn't bother him, her need was clearly more important.

Anyway, Jake was done with the van and he needed to catch up with Damon so they could head for the car and their escape. Damon interrupted his contemplation. Well, sort of. 'They... freaked... silence... shouting... panic...'

The disconnect was getting worse. He recognized it from times talking to Damon when Damon had been a prisoner, he recognized it from himself when he had been headed to try and rescuse Damon. There just came a point of exhaustion where they really couldn't function any more. Damon seemed to be really hitting that right now, his thoughts were barely getting through. 'Snap out of it Damon. I can't hear what you're thinking. You need to concentrate.'

'Trying. So hard.'

'I know, but we're so close. Five minutes more and we're out of here.'

'I made the call. They answered. Got freaked by the silence. They were shouting down the phone in a panic. I gave them a minute or two then ended the call. Felt fucking cruel. But, they were scared enough, it'll work. You really know how to fuck with people's minds alright. Anyway I'm on my way back to the car now.' The effort in getting the report out seemed to be about the limit of what Damon had left, but it hardly mattered at this point, he'd completed his part of the mission.

'Done here as well, I'll head that way. Then we can go home and watch the media orgy on News 24.'

There was no reply.

'Damon?'

'Found... missing... one angry motherfucker...' Damon was too far gone to understand.

Jake could just about sense the angry motherfucker part. He was struggling himself now, he could only catch snatches. There was a vague sensation of anger in the distance that he figured had to be Stellman. It wasn't consistent, and he couldn't work out where Stellman was, except nowhere close. Jake didn't need to know where the guy was, Damon had faked Misako's trail to lead Stellman out into the fields. Away from where Jake was, and away from where their car was, that was all that mattered.

'We fucking did it little boy, we fucking did it. See you back at the car in a few.' He didn't figure Damon could hear, he couldn't really sense much of anything any more. It was past time to head back to the car. He tried to get his bearings and started to make his way round to the driveway.

As he approached the front of the farmhouse he could see a flashlight catching the rain in the distance. The rain was still heavy enough he couldn't make much else out. He certainly couldn't sense anything, his mind was getting far too fuzzy. Damon must have gotten turned around leaving the farmhouse, was headed completely the wrong way.

'What are you doing you twat, our car's the other...' Jake tried to telepath, but trailed off. Damon didn't have a flashlight, and he wasn't as angry as the guy storming along the driveway towards Jake was. Shit. What was the twat Stellman doing coming this way? The fake trail should have led him in the opposite direction.

Jake froze, trying to work out if Stellman had seen him or not. It was no good, all he could sense was that the guy was very, very pissed off. Jake didn't want to move too suddenly, but Stellman was now headed directly his way. It didn't matter if the guy had seen him or not, if he stayed where he was then Stellman would walk straight into him. Jake stared into the distance, his only hope was to jaunt into the woods behind Stellman, then he could make a run for it. He just wasn't sure he had the energy left. Too late, Jake sensed Stellman catch a glimpse of him through the rain. He knew he was out of time, he tried desperately one last time to jaunt, and failed.

The first shot grazed his arm, the second smashed into his leg. He felt the bone splintering, he fell in agony, face down into the mud. His consciousness was blurred by the pain and the only thought his mind seemed to be able to process was that this was not what was meant to have happened, this was not part of the sodding plan.

Strangely the pain seemed to momentarily give him some clarity. He could sense the relief from Stellman, relief at having found Misako and stopped her so quickly, frustration that he had so nearly fucked up so badly a second time. Jake kind of registered that Stellman would get even more angry when he realized it wasn't Misako he'd shot at, but Jake was in way too much pain to get much satisfaction from that. He desperately wanted jaunt away before the guy got close enough to finish him off, but he was too exhausted, there was too much pain, he couldn't focus, it wasn't going to happen. Seventeen years old, never had sex, didn't want to die. This was no damn way to die. Jake was aware he was running out of options. He barely registered Damon crashing out of the bushes. Taking his hand, taking him out of there. But not far, they were beside the perimeter wall. In the distance he could hear movement.

Damon tried to tear a strip off his shirt, then gave up and took off the shirt. "Looks bad, you're loosing blood fast. Shit, how did we screw up like this?" He ignored the choked back agony from Jake as he tied the shirt as tightly as he could around Jake's leg to try and staunch the flow of blood.

Jake was still shaking, shock rapidly setting in, but the arrival of Damon seemed to have kicked his mind back into working. Damon wasn't going to get him out of there, and there was nowhere they could go they could explain bullet wounds. His best chance of survival was to stay and be found by the police.

"Police on the way. They'll get him. Nothing you can do. Just go." Jake managed to stammer out through clenched teeth. He was too far gone to be able to handle telepathy.

"That won't stop the bleeding, should slow it. Fuck, this isn't happening."

"Go, get back, drive back, get Kath to report me missing. Take my cellphone, crush it, dump it by the school, they'll know."

"What?"

"I'll sort out the rest."

"You can't sort anything out, you're bleeding to death."

"Thanks for that reassurance." Jake managed to gasp angrily.

"You think you can just talk your way out of this one?"

"Yes."

"You need to survive first. Alright. If I can just get him distracted long enough, lead him in the other direction, you just need to hold on, you just need to hold the fuck on. Just... I'll be back."

Jake felt his mind slipping out of phase, trying to hold back the pain, trying to stay conscious. Ignoring the rain streaming down his face. Trying to stay alive.

* * *

He could hear Damon in the distance, he wasn't sure what else. It seemed to have worked for a moment, Stellman headed away, following after him. Jake wasn't sure that was going to be enough, his vision was turning red, he was loosing hold. He fought, tried to hang on. His eyes closed, he was slipping into the blackness. Permanent blackness. So this was what it felt like to die.

He sensed a glimmer of a presence in the distance. A hand reaching out to him, pulling him back.

"I'm not letting you die that easily, damned if I'm going to be the only freak left. Take this." He felt the dart gun being pushed into his hand by Damon. Damon must have been back to the farm house to get it. "I'm going to circle round, can't sense anyone, running on empty here." Jake tried to hold onto the gun, but the loss of blood had left him unable to do much more than clasp it weakly to his side. The police had to be close, Damon only had to distract the guy a little longer.

Some chance. Stellman had already figured the deception and doubled back. Damon had barely handed the dart gun to Jake and stood up before he was slammed back to the ground by a vicious jump kick, a cold and emotionless figure standing over him holding a gun. Damon's self defense training kicked in and he kicked out at the guys legs, bringing him to the ground, then wrestled the gun from Stellman's hands and managed to take a step or two back.

"Stalemate, Damon Jackson. And it does seem my memory just came back."

Damon raised the gun. "Back off, I can react faster than you can even think about moving. We played this game before."

"I don't doubt it. But reacting and pulling the trigger, not the same thing."

"Just stay back, the police are on their way. You got no way out."

"How about I kill you and number twelve here and then walk away."

"I have the gun."

"You also have a conscience."

"After what you did to me, you sure about that?"

"All those games, meticulously planned, and the irony is that I learned the most important truths about you in your failed first attempt to escape. Even after all those things I did to you, even with your survival on the line, even when you had the perfect opportunity to kill me, you couldn't do it, because you had a conscience." He took a step forward towards Damon.

"Last warning."

"Go ahead. You want to see me dead so much? So pull the trigger."

Damon found himself taking a step back. He tried to tighten his finger around the trigger, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Despite the hatred, despite the anger, he couldn't shoot someone down in cold blood. It was like he had no instinct for self preservation if the cost was taking a life, even the life of someone who was ready to kill him.

"You can't, can you? You're incapable of killing, you have no instinct for survival, you're nothing more than an evolutionary dead end."

Damon spoke softly, angrily. "If we're a dead end, if we're not the new species you're looking for, why go on experimenting on us and killing us?"

"To learn. To learn from your mistakes."

"If we aren't the future, then we can't be a danger. Leave us alone."

"You're part of the problem. Fertility rates are collapsing, way faster than anyone realizes. Maybe that's just part of what drives the mechanism that evolves one species into the next. But something's gone wrong. Homo sapiens is slowly dying and Homo superior hasn't turned up yet. Homo sapiens is in danger of being the architect of its own destruction. The world is overpopulated, you can't get the isolation needed to allow a new hominid species to evolve independently, and humanity itself is so misguided as to prevent their own apotheosis."

"Anagenesis and cladogenesis."

"We protect the crippled, the blind, the deformed. We pollute our own bloodline with the schizophrenics, the depressives, the gays, the religious freaks who cling on to outdated concepts of God. We face extinction because of people like you; the pacifists, the liberals, the weak minded. If the human race is to survive we need to accelerate evolution before the falling fertility rates kill us. That means we have to start to push the process, start aggressively weeding out those inferior, retrograde elements from the gene pool. Start to breed strength, not weakness."

"Man, and I thought I was paranoid. But what if you're wrong? What if those qualities you dismiss because of your own short sighted prejudices turn out to be exactly what makes us superior?"

"That would sound more convincing if my survival was in doubt, if your survival was even likely. "

"Okay, you maybe have a point there," Damon was still pointing the gun, but the pretense wasn't fooling anyone any more. "So how many people do you plan to kill just because they're different?"

"As many as it takes."

"And you expect all of them to just give up and die nicely for you?"

"No. I expect them to fight. And to lose that fight. Two groups competing for the same niche in an environment, only one can survive. That's the natural order. The strong survive, the weak die. If you were the future, if you really were the tomorrow people, I would accept my fate. That's how evolution works. And I absolutely believe in evolution."

"So what now?"

Stellman took the final step forward and took the gun from Damon, turned it and point it directly at him. "I'd like to leave the two of you to bleed slowly to death out here. Give you some time to think about why this was your inescapable destiny. So that you get to die knowing that I won, that I was right, and that I will be out there trying to better humanity for its own sake. But you called the police, so I don't have time." His sight still focussed on Damon, Stellman had momentarily swung his arm around and pulled the trigger. Damon hadn't seen that coming, he'd let himself get distracted. The bullet tore through Jake's shoulder. The dart gun Jake had been holding fell to the ground, he was screaming in agony. But not screaming much like a girl.

"Doesn't sound much like Misako does it, not even a girl, bit thick of you not to notice that, wonder how far away she is by now?" Damon could sense Stellman's frustration, so obstinately wanting to believe Damon was just trying to distract him, so unable to deny that those weren't the screams of a girl. Pushed into looking or conceding, Stellman turned to look over at Jake.

Damon had his one chance to make sure the guy didn't escape, didn't get a chance to kill again. Disarming Stellman wouldn't achieve anything, and Stellman was right, Damon knew there was nothing he could do with the gun. That left one chance, one moment while the gun was pointed away from him, he threw himself towards where Jake had dropped the dart gun, and grabbed it. Not the most effective weapon, but non-lethal, that was good enough. It would take fifteen seconds to work, fifteen seconds before Stellman would be unconsciousness. That left fifteen seconds for Stellman to return fire with a slightly more lethal weapon. But that was not something Damon could worry about, he had no other options left. Without hesitating he fired the dart straight into Stellman's leg.

Stellman twisted round, trying to steady the gun, trying to aim, fighting the tranquilizer drug. Trying to pull the trigger, and failing. Damon could sense the desperation, the panic, Stellman couldn't handle the fact that his plan could fall apart so quickly, not when he had been so sure he had won.

"Go ahead, kill me. I get to die knowing you lost, that you were wrong, and that you will never get the chance to kill again. The police are on their way, and by the time you regain consciousness it'll be too late. You're finished. You're right about one thing, we seem to be incapable of killing, but if that's a weakness... how did we just beat you?"

Damon could feel the anger, the desperation. Stellman's legs were starting to give way, he stumbled, fell to his knees and managed to steady himself. Damon could see the racing mind, trying to think through options, trying to work out how he could escape, interjected with visions of facing trial, of being locked up; of acknowledging failure, Stellman couldn't handle that. His mind flashing through a dozen scenarios within a fragment of a second. Each idea grasped at as if it were a real chance, a hope of turning the situation back around, each hope discarded, each possibility rejected, each fading into darkness, until there was only a single thought, a single hope to cling to, until that too faded into hopelessness, and there was nothing left. A blank, cold, acceptance of futility, and of fate. And then Damon figured it out, he tried to lunge for the gun, but he was too late, Stellman was too far away, and Stellman knew there was so little time.

Damon watched as Stellman turned the gun on himself, watched as Stellman swayed to stay upright. Watched the bullet penetrate Stellman's skull just below the ear, pass through upwards and blow bits of brain out the other side of his head. He watched the gun fall as the limp body slipped forward into the mud.

Damon was still half in a state of shock, managed to pick himself up and crawl back to where Jake was breathing more slowly and more fitfully, shaking, his life signs fading, beyond the point of being conscious to the pain. Damon tried to pull him back from the edge, but had so little energy remaining of his own that he wasn't much able to help. There was nothing left he could do. In the distance he could sense intense anxiety. No sirens, they hadn't wanted to announce themselves. But they had the place surrounded, they'd heard the shot, they were moving in. Jake had one chance, if the medics could find him fast enough.

Damon crawled back over to the dead body. He pulled the flashlight away and turned it on, leaving it pointed up into the rain as a beacon. He waited until he sensed someone had seen it. Then he pushed the dart gun back down beside Jake's hand. The police would add two and to together and get it wrong, but that was okay. He stopped and kissed Jake gently on the forehead. "Please live."

He crawled away into the undergrowth. He had to get back to the car. Had to get back before anyone noticed he was gone.

It was over.

* * *

**22: Choice of Fate**

* * *

"I'm stuck in this bloody wheelchair for another four more weeks they figure, I can't even get up and hobble around on crutches until then with my shoulder being as trashed as my leg. You're laughing, but do you know how sodding embarrassing it is when I need to go to the toilet right now?" Jake ranted. His first day home after a week in hospital had not been working out so well.

"Serves you right for getting yourself shot." Damon wasn't in a mood to offer too much sympathy.

"Fuck off, Damon. I still get nightmares about that."

"So what. I still wake up mornings freaked out because I think he's still got me prisoner even though I know he's dead. Let's face it we're both fucked up."

"I guess I'm lucky in that respect. The damage to me is more physical than emotional. Bones heal more easily."

"Bones get broken more easily. I wasn't all that convinced you would make it. Not after you took the second bullet. I think you look in pretty good shape now considering the mess you were in."

"I'm not that easy to get rid of. Doctors couldn't understand how I survived either. Said it wasn't humanly possible. But what the fuck would they know. They're only human."

"Starting to believe?" Damon asked gently.

"At this point, yeah."

"You make it sound like you're disappointed."

Jake hesitated. "I am. I mean, I sort of wanted life to go back to normal..."

"You wanting to be normal, now that is weird."

"I'll take that as a complement!"

"It would be to you."

"... But it can't happen, can it? Normality. We're not like other people, that's just the way it is. I would love to deny that, pretend like none of this ever happened, but I'm not that stupid."

Damon grinned. "Hey, don't do yourself down. I believe in you. I believe you're stupid enough for anything if you set your mind to it."

"Fuck off, Damon, I'm trying to be serious."

"I know. You're right. Sorry. Just, face it, you could never do normal, ordinary. That just isn't you, even if we didn't have all this extra special crap we can do, ordinary doesn't interest you."

"I guess not."

"Fuck it Jake, don't bullshit indifference, I can read your mind remember."

"Alright, I don't want ordinary. I like the idea of being different. I guess what this is about is I just feel like I could do with a little bit less attention."

"Tell me about it. I didn't even dare visit you at the hospital with all the press camped outside. But what do you expect? You're a hero, you're front page news."

"Hey, you were the one who saved the day, all I did was lie there and bleed."

"You were trying very hard not to bleed quite so much."

"I couldn't bleeding stop though."

"Not funny. Anyway, I prefer the anonymity. I wouldn't ever want to be the hero." Damon pointed out.

"You're a fucking hero to me. And I don't mean that in a gay way. You saved my fucking life. I know that, even if no one else does."

"So I guess that makes us even."

Jake shook his head gently. "It's not a debt I ever would have held you to."

"I know." Damon hesitated, unsure if he wanted to raise the question that was on his mind. He gave in and asked. "What do you think, are we safe now?"

"Still paranoid?"

"The last thoughts going through Stellman's head were about friends in high places who could step in and get him out of any trouble, then a realization they were more likely to kill him to keep him quiet. I don't know, it was confused, none of his thoughts were that coherent by that point."

"Worse shape than my thoughts by that point?" Jake joked.

"I would say so."

"And we know he was working with someone. Someone that the police in their infinite wisdom won't even believe exists."

"Not that they'd find him anyway." Damon was cynical.

"Certainly not without us doing all the work for them again."

"Stellman was the dangerous one though."

"You sure of that?" Jake asked.

Damon was acutely aware of how wrong he'd been about Stellman the last time he'd made any prediction. "No. Not completely."

"So we both still need to watch out."

"All four of us do."

"You get anywhere checking on that last tracking chip they couldn't account for?"

"No luck yet, I'll keep on trying. You get any chance to talk to Misako yesterday before you left the hospital?"

"No. She's still so fucked up she isn't talking. Not to anyone."

"Not even to the guy that saved her life. There's gratitude. She is one of us though, I am sure of that."

"Would we have stuck our necks out like that for her if she wasn't?" Jake asked the awkward question.

"I don't know. I'd like to think we would have. But I don't know." Damon conceded.

"You look after your own. From what little I caught while I was concentrating on bleeding to death, Stellman seemed pretty sure we weren't his mythical new species."

"And that's what convinced me that we are." Damon answered with an air of certainty. "With overpopulation you can't isolate people geographically, but he's applying simple animal behavioral patterns to people. People are way more complex than that. People make choices. Sometimes rational, sometimes irrational, but they make choices. He dehumanized us, he made us the enemy. We defined ourselves as different, we identified ourselves as a cohesive group opposed to what he tried to do to us. We become a separate species because he forced us to make that choice. It isn't geographic isolation, it's social isolation."

"You pick a side, you stick with it." Jake actually figured he had understood Damon's ramblings this time.

"That's about it."

"Seems too simple."

Damon was philosophical. "Sometimes the events that drive the future of the world have simple beginnings. There was no doubt in his mind, Homo sapiens is in trouble. He just couldn't see that by killing us he was taking away the one chance humanity has. We really are the tomorrow people. Humanity is dying out, we have to survive."

Jake frowned sarcastically. "Seriously, if we're the only hope for the future of humanity, I think humanity is totally fucked."

* * *

"Where do the lies end, and where does the truth begin?" Kath asked Jake. She'd been burning to ask the question for days, but hadn't figured the hospital was private enough she would get an honest answer.

"Only one lie. I wasn't abducted. I went after him. The rest is true. I really was next on his list anyway."

"So all that crap you said to me about your funeral, that was true as well. You already knew then that you were on that list?"

"Yeah, I knew." Jake figured there was no point trying to pretend otherwise. He'd always respected that about Kath, her directness. And he appreciated it, perhaps now more than ever.

"And you just love telling the truth maliciously to make people think you're either delusional or taking the piss."

"Floats my boat."

"You're fucking crazy, Jake Laris."

"And yet you trust me. Enough to take Damon at his word and report me missing."

"He was pretty convincing. It's funny, but I could swear he could see what I was thinking, exactly like you do."

"Fucking weird is what that is."

"I'm not going to ask." Kath decided to make it easy for him. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the truth anyway.

"Thanks. You're not missing anything. The truth is pretty fucked up to be honest."

"I can believe that. You live in a crazy, fucked up world Jake."

Jake frowned maliciously, an evil glint in his eye. "My world crazy and fucked up? You split up with Dean. Now you're seeing Mike. That is the world gone totally fucking crazy," he changed the subject.

"Right, but for you, normal is winding up in a coma after a car crash, or getting shot escaping from a serial killer. I don't want any part of that kind of normal, Jake Laris. Give me my fucking crazy any day."

"Answer me this then, settle something I'm mildly curious about. Which of them is the better shag?"

Kath looked back at him, stony faced, silent.

"Okay, don't answer then. But you're thinking ideally you want Mike's body with Dean's cock. And you're curious about what I could contribute to that mix."

"I'll contain my curiosity."

"Good, because I wouldn't indulge you."

"There's nothing at all I want from you."

"There's nothing at all you're getting from me."

"No, actually there is something I want from you."

"Now the truth comes out. Go ahead."

"Next year, Wimbledon tickets. Final day. Center Court."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. I need to know though, who is it you want to see playing in the final? That might be more tricky to arrange, but I can try."

Kath stared quizzically at him... his proposition was beyond insane, but she had to half believe he fucking meant it.

* * *

"Shipping out?" Damon stepped over the packed bags outside Nick's bedroom.

"Tomorrow. Flight leaves for Najaf in the morning."

"How's that working out with your parents?"

"Better. Jake was right. They went totally apeshit at first, but they're calming down now. I don't think they'll ever like the idea, but I think they understand why I'm doing it. I think they're starting to respect my right to choose at least. So, been watching him on the news. How's Jake doing?"

"Hating being on the news. Almost as much as I did. He's okay."

"You feeling better?"

"Starting to."

"You're both a couple of suicidal idiots. You know that?"

"Says the guy flying into a place that was still a war zone until a year or two ago and is still on the list of countries the foreign office advise against traveling to."

"You're both a couple of suicidal idiots who are clearly a bad influence on me."

"Nick."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being the worst influence anyone has been on me in my life."

"Not a problem little boy."

"No offense intended. You know, for a human, you're okay." Damon joked.

"You're getting as arrogant as that fucking Jake. Police missed that one. What the victims had in common, they're all arrogant fuckers."

"He had access to the national DNA database. He was using that to pick his victims." Damon answered the question Nick hadn't asked, but had been thinking about asking. Damon had concluded he could trust Nick with the truth, that was the cool part of being able to read minds.

"Shit. Wait for the media to get their hands on that little revelation." Nick grinned.

"This database will help us catch pedophiles and rapists, the innocent need not fear, think of the children. That's what the politicians told us. And it got ten innocent kids murdered."

"And they'll point the finger of blame at everyone except themselves. And they wonder why our generation is so cynical of authority."

"So fuck them."

"Amen, brother." Nick nodded sarcastically.

"We'll change it though. The future isn't theirs. It's ours."

"That arrogance again?"

"Stellman searched hundreds of thousands of profiles, but they don't know exactly what he was looking for. The filtering was all done on his laptop, which he kept that encrypted. So, that's lost, we'll probably never know. But there are hundreds, maybe thousands of us out there, I'm sure of that. We can change the world. That isn't arrogance. That's just a reality the world is going to have to live with."

* * *

"I was worried you guys wouldn't still be talking, on account of the two of you avoided visiting me at the same time the whole week I was in the hospital, that and the fact you wouldn't talk about the other when you did turn up."

"You know then?" Dean broke the silence.

Jake didn't bother answering, it would just have been stating the bloody obvious.

"We weren't, for a couple of days. Talking that is." Mike admitted.

It took Jake a moment to work it out. "You guys actually had a fist fight?" Neither of them had actually come out with admitting that, but Jake didn't feel like he should let them get away with pretending otherwise. He was kind of surprised by the revelation though, he'd been so sure that Dean was more the bitch-slap type.

"Kath doesn't know, does she?" Mike seemed the one more worried that the story had somehow gotten out.

"Only fight she knows about is that time you two got drunk and were naked mud wrestling." Jake told them.

"What?" Dean sounded freaked.

Jake laughed. "Chill out, she doesn't know. Yes we talked about you guys, but that was just her telling me all about how your various attributes compare." Actually he suspected Kath might know, but right now he could see Dean wasn't going to find that very funny. Jake wanted to wind them up, not upset them.

"I never fucking know when you're joking." objected Dean.

"He's just winding us up because he's bored." Mike observed, somewhat perceptively for him.

"You're right though, I'm seriously getting bored stuck here. I do need to get out and do something crazy." Jake was feeling the frustrations of his confinement to a wheelchair.

"You haven't had enough excitement for one lifetime?" Dean asked.

"No. Not even close."

"Well, not major excitement, but, I was figuring, if you get out of that cast on schedule, how about we all go camping over half term if the weather holds out?" Mike suggested.

Jake thought about it for a moment. "I'd be up for that. Way to make sure of the weather though, I was thinking this time maybe camping in the Amazon jungle. And for the benefit of Dean, who admits he has trouble working it out, I'm totally fucking serious."

* * *

"Hi." Anna started, peering in at Damon through the open door of his bedroom. Another milestone that had been, Doctor Jim had pointed out, Damon not having to lock himself in the room the whole time.

"Hi." Damon responded quietly.

There was a long pause. It was not a particularly good start to the conversation. Although the past days had been tough on him Damon was ready to let go, ready to relax, closure was so close but there was one last detail to confront before he could finally draw a line on the past. It was just not a detail he was going to enjoy confronting.

"I joked about it, wondered about it, half believed at times but then dismissed it all as ridiculous. But I don't know. It's pretty obvious you can see what I'm thinking most of the time. Can you really read my mind?" Anna broke the silence.

"Yes."

She hadn't expected the bluntness of his reply. But it helped. "So you know what I'm planning to say then?"

"You, me, over. That kind of thing."

"Right. I suppose that kind of makes it easier. Means there's no going back."

"You don't want any of this to happen, but you know it has to. It's okay, it's not your fault. It isn't anybody's fault."

"Do you have to be so fucking reasonable Damon, I'm trying to be upset here."

"Sorry."

"You're apologizing for being too perfect, and I'm telling you to piss off. I need my fucking head examined."

"You only just worked that out?"

"Fuck off Damon."

"You don't need your head examined. You're scared about the future, that's rational."

"What about you then? Where do you see yourself being in ten years? Married with kids?"

"I'm sixteen, I don't think about things like that."

"I can see you as a dad, I think you'll make a great father one day. And quit squirming, Damon, it's the truth. That's the crazy part. I see your tomorrow, I just know I'm not part of it."

"Life has been so messed up recently I don't know I would want to try and predict tomorrow, let alone ten years from now."

"Yeah, and about that. You introduce me to the next victim just days before he gets kidnapped, and you act like you've know each other forever, and then he escapes just like you did, and you stop wearing that armband thing both of you had. And I know there is a whole bunch of stuff you aren't telling me about what happened, and I'm never going to know, because I can't read minds."

"Keeps on coming back to that, doesn't it."

"I think it does. So. Here it goes. The speech thing I prepared: I had a blast. All that time talking to you on the train, you listening to me rant on about how unfair life was, you just, made me feel good. I needed that. You were really great. And, the rest... the first time I got to know a guy, I screwed up big time. Maybe I did compare you physically, but, the rest, he was just wrong. Biggest screw up of my life. You, you were the right guy at the right time for the right reason, and I don't have any regrets. None at all."

"It was kind of fun."

"But then, fuck, this is going to sound shallow, and it isn't meant to. But, after you, after what happened, and after you escaped. I just didn't feel like I ever really totally connected with you again. And to start with I blamed that on how messed up you were after what had happened, I tried to convince myself that in time you would get back to some kind of normal. But, then I started to realize, you'd always been, well..."

"Fucking weird?"

"I wasn't going to use those exact words, but, since you did, yes. You're fucking weird. You are totally unlike anyone I ever met before. And yeah, that was a big part of why I found you so exciting. You don't think the same way other people do. You have depths I don't think I could ever understand, and that's the problem. And you get it, because you know there's no way I can ever understand, and that frustrates the crap out of you at times, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Sometimes." Damon didn't see the point in lying.

"And I can't see what you're thinking. And, that's a problem. This could never be a relationship of equals because you are just not equal, Damon. Not to anyone I know. You really are something special."

Damon found himself intellectually curious. "Do you see me as being that different because I am that separate, that apart, or do you see me that way because act that way, because you're reflecting how I see myself?"

"Fuck it, Damon, I don't know. That's a level of subtlety beyond, does it really matter?"

"I guess not."

"For what it's worth, you're a great fuck, and I will miss that. I'll really miss that."

"We were good." Damon joked, but it was muted.

Anna sat silently. The pause lasted too long for comfort, this was it. She smiled wryly. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Just on the train tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that." Damon could sense her pain, the confusion, but he could also sense understanding. She knew what she was doing. He didn't like it, but he had no choice but to accept the inevitability of it.

She kissed him. Slowly, passionately, she really knew how to turn him on. He could have done without it given that she was about to walk out on him for the last time. But he reluctantly limited himself to merely smiling at her as her lips pulled away.

Jake had been right. It couldn't work. They were just too different from humans for it to stand any chance of working. And maybe that was the point. That was where they crossed the line. That was where they became a separate species, where they became the tomorrow people.

Damon tried to reamin composed. He would see Anna again the next morning, there was no need to say goodbye. He watched as she turned and walked away without looking back. He followed her across to his bedroom door, locking it as he closed it behind her. He was alone.

Damon's head fell forwards against the door in final surrender and he listened to the departing footsteps fading slowly into memories.

* * *

**23: Postscript**

* * *

The inspector looked up from his desk. The investigation was over, the death of the only suspect had deprived them of a prosecution, now all that was left was to put the finishing touches to the report he was preparing to hand off to the formal inquest. He'd been clearing out case files and was not happy to be interrupted by a mysterious visitor waving a security clearance at him. "I don't quite understand your interest here...?"

"Colonel Masters, Ministry of Defense."

"Right, well, there's not much I can tell you for sure. He kept his data encrypted, and forensics have had no luck cracking that."

"I'd have been surprised to hear otherwise. Stellman knew what he was doing."

"He's a threat to national security then?"

"Marcus Stellman received a speeding ticket three years ago after he got angry with the university finance committee cutting his funding and he stormed off in a rage. The incident was investigated thoroughly, scientists deprived of funding can sometimes make choices that aren't in the best interest of Queen and country. Yes, we stepped in to ensure he wasn't tempted to sell out. He did some work for us, although that fact will not be mentioned at any point by your investigation."

"I don't want this turning into another Whitehall conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, Colonel."

"Whitehall, Inspector, with all due respect, is generally only concerned with covering up incompetence. And the extent of their incompetence here is that they gave security clearance to an individual who subsequently turned out to be a sociopathic murderer. I am here to cover up his connection with the defense research program, that is all. Believe it or not, we are on the same side."

* * *

"Anything?" Masters was asked as he got back in the car to leave.

"No. Unfortunately it seems Stellman took his secrets to the grave with him."

"And was he working alone?"

"The official investigation has reached that conclusion. The kid who escaped indicated otherwise, but he was delusional from the drugs they said."

"You believe the boy?"

"Stellman was intellectually half baked, he couldn't have pulled all that off on his own. Plus there remains the matter of the disc and those prion samples missing from his house, someone had to be responsible for that, and it wasn't Stellman."

"What about our friend with the red hair?"

"It does not benefit us to jump to conclusions. He certainly has the means and motive to be connected with all this, the missing items could be his work. But that is idle speculation. For now it is important we keep an open mind."

"The kids?"

"Keep them under discreet surveillance. And I mean discreet. If our red headed friend was involved he'll be going after them soon enough. And he really is dangerous, unlike that idiot Stellman."

"And Stellman?"

"Can be replaced. You know, it's a pity he didn't bring this project to us in the first place. It would have made things so much easier." 


End file.
